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THE 


Angel of the Village 


h^ M, OHORN 


U 

AUTHOR OF “LOVE FOR HATE/^ 
ETC. 


TRANSLATED BY 

MRS. MATHEWS 



'V i'>V 

r,0 *• • ‘ 


G 


DEC 23 M 

V^AS 


BOSTON 

CUPPLES AND HURD 
94 Boylston Street 
*. 1888 





Copyright^ \88y. 

By CuppLES AND Hurd. 


'v. 


i 



PREFACE. 


Cold and grey hung the evening shadows over 
the earth; the snow-flakes fell thick and fast, 
swept by the icy wind that circled around the 
towers and dashed through the streets of the city, 
— a true winter evening it was when you came to 
me, dear angel of the village, tender and appeal- 
ing, like a faint, half -perishing child; and through 
long days you lingered by me, brightening dark 
hours, and growing so dear to me, that it seemed 
at last as if I could never let you go from me. 

But when the springtime came, in the joyous 
singing month of May, softly you spread your 
wings and flew far from me, away into the high 
Swiss mountains, where you stood before the tri- 
bunal of the judges and told the story of your 
life and of your love. 

When the year had passed you came back to 
me, dear child of my heart, the medal of honor 
gleaming upon your pure breast, and nestled close 
to me once more with loving caress. As if in 


blessing I lay my hand upon your dear head, and 
send you forth again into the wide world, where 
coldness may meet you and scant greeting wait 
you; but be brave, and be not a beggar for its 
favor. 

Once more, farewell! Stand before all in mod- 
esty and humility, and to those who welcome you 
with the spirit of love give greeting, faithful and 
true, from 

THE AUTHOR. 

Prague, 

All-Saints’-Day, 1871. 


CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

I. PAY-DAY 9 

n. HOHENAU 21 

m. A STRIKE 46 

IV. HOFRATH VON KALER .... 62 

V. A SERMON 82 

VI. DR. FEIGEL 93 

Vn. THE LAST MASQUERADE .... 110 

VIll. AN AWFUL GUEST 124 

IX. ENMITY BETWEEN THE EAST AND 

WEST 139 

X. UNRECONCILED 158 

XI. THE CATASTROPHE 172 

Xn. DEVELOPMENTS 193 

xra. THE AUCTION 219 

XIV. THE FALL OF THE HOUSE . . . 235 

XV. THE NEW MASTER 246 



g 



THE 


Angel of the Village 



THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


CHAPTER I. 


PAY-DAY. 


HE sound of voices half suppressed, of 



1 restless, half-stilled movements, filled 
the long room, where one Saturday even- 
ing the employes of Erasmus Breyer, the rich 
manufacturer, were assembled according to 
the rules of the establishment, to receive the 
hardly-won wages for the past week. The 
tall, gaunt men stood in groups, their pale, 
dispirited faces and wasted, emaciated fig- 
ures telling an eloquent tale of hopeless, 
ill-requited toil. Wearily they watched the 
high, narrow door, which opened into the ad- 
joining room, over which “Counting-room” 
was painted in large letters. Without, a 
leaden sky bent over the autumn landscape, 
casting shadows, which fell grey and gloomy 
over the dreary room, — grey and anxious 
over the faces of its occupants. Behind a 


10 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

low railing in the other end of the apart- 
ment stood a plain, heavy table, painted black, 
beside which stood a large, old-fashioned 
arm-chair, the throne of the man who ruled 
the lives of the men, who now waited his 
coming. Worthless pictures hung in their 
smoke-blackened frames upon the smoke- 
begrimed walls, and near the entrance swung, 
with persistent monotone, the pendulum of 
an old Black-Forest clock. When its mas- 
sive finger pointed to ten minutes after seven, 
the door of the counting-room opened, and 
all was hushed in the ante-room, the tick of 
the clock alone breaking the stillness. 

A tall, thin man entered from the adjoin- 
ing room, carrying in one of his slender, 
heavily jewelled hands a strong box, which 
he carefully deposited on the table before 
him, as he seated himself in the large arm- 
chair, and glanced carelessly over the rest- 
less groups which surged before him. He 
raised the lid of the box, then closed it again, 
and leaning back in his chair said in an icy 
tone : — 

“For various reasons, unnecessary to ex- 
plain, I have decided to make a further reduc- 
tion in your wages. If any one of you feels 
that under these circumstances he can no 


PA Y-DA Y. 


11 


longer work for me, he is at perfect liberty to 
seek employment elsewhere.” 

Involuntarily the men drew themselves 
more closely together, a low sigh, which 
swelled almost to a moan, was heard through 
the silent room, but no more articulate protest 
was made as the men stood immovable be- 
neath the frosty gaze of the man, upon whom 
they depended so utterly for the scanty 
means of subsistence, which he eked out to 
them. After a moment of silent waiting he 
took a slip of paper, the list of the men’s 
names and, raising the lid of the box once 
more, proceeded to read name after name 
aloud. Each man, as his name was called, 
presented himself at the railing, received his 
money, and with a silent motion of acknowl- 
edgment withdi*ew. 

“John Kleemann,” called the sharp voice 
from behind the table, and a tall, muscular 
figure strode from the thinned ranks of the 
workmen, upon whose pale face the lines 
written by caie and need were painfully dis- 
tinct. The pallor of his countenance was 
intensified by his swarthy beard, and the 
great dark eyes gleamed with undisguised 
hatred as they met those of the master, who 
however, ignored the fact, or was in fact 


12 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


unconscious of it as he silently laid his wages 
before the man. The fingers of the work- 
man clutched nervously as if they would 
thrust the money back to the giver; they 
seemed the wages of Judas, these for which 
he was selling himself, for which he was 
sapping the very springs of his life ! But 
another picture rose before him, — that of 
wife and child, and the hitter need which 
pressed upon them, — and his hand closed 
over the niggardly sum, and the door clanged 
violently behind him as he hastily left the 
master’s hated presence. 

So one after another stood in front of the 
railing, took his money and left. The manu- 
facturer closed his money-box and rose, when 
suddenly another figure confronted him, one 
which presented a marked contrast to him- 
self. The new-comer was a man below 
medium height, the dark flush upon whose 
countenance was deepened by the heavy 
shadow cast by the enormous spectacles he 
wore upon his large nose. His entire appear- 
ance bore evidence that he by no means neg- 
lected “spiritual communication,” and that, 
with due deference to the lawful princes of 
the land, he was a faithful follower of “ King 
Gamhrinus.” As for his circumference, which 


PA Y-DA Y. 


13 


was something tremendous, he could look 
with proud contempt upon the man opposite 
to him, whose slight figure, in its smart, well- 
fitting clothes, compared with his very much 
as a thin, exquisitely bound volume of lyri- 
cal poems would with one of the old-time 
folios in its pig-skin or parchment bindings. 
The short gray coat would not meet around 
the full figure, and the light brown pantaloons 
were much too small either for symmetry 
or comfort ; the thick fingers were thrust 
into a pair of stiff, worn-out dog-skin gloves, 
and in his left hand he gracefully flourished 
a high black hat, which in some long-past 
time might possibly have figured as a model 
in a fashion journal, but which to-day was 
interesting only as a relic of the past. But 
it was evidently highly valued by its owner, 
who gently caressed its few remaining hairs 
and smoothed it tenderly with his right arm. 

This person was known as “Dr.” Feigel. 
In his youthful days he had sworn fealty to 
the blind goddess Themis, but after a few 
years of fruitless devotion he decided that 
neither in heathen mythology or in modern 
practice could one man serve two masters 
(in this case a master and a mistress) ; nor did 
he, after due consideration of the question, 


14 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


think it was the correct thing for his mascu- 
line intelligence to yield itself up to feminine 
domination, so he turned his back with proud 
independence upon his first leader, and joined 
the throng who march under the banner of 
.the grape-crowned, panther-drawn god. Fur- 
ther, he thought it would be best, under the 
circumstances, to withdraw to some quiet vil- 
lage and begin his life again in a remote 
region, far from the scenes of his earlier 
career. It chanced that he took up his abode 
in Hohenau, the town in which Erasmus 
Breyer’s factory was situated, and where he 
was so fortunate as to secure the position 
of town-clerk. He promptly assumed the 
duties the office entailed upon him, and 
wrote the petitions of the simple villagers 
with the greater enthusiasm when under the 
inspiration of his especial divinity. With 
equal promptness, he promoted himself to 
the rank of “ doctor,” and was immensely 
gratified and flattered when his fellow-towns- 
men saluted him by that title. 

This man presented himself before the 
railing as the manufacturer rose to his feet, 
and with a profound obeisance and the 
assumption of his most insinuating expres- 
sion, said mildly: — 


FA y-^DA K 


16 


“I have the honor to wish you a very 
good evening.” 

Mr. Breyer nodded indifferently, at the 
same time laying his hand upon his money- 
box, unconsciously, perhaps, but possibly 
prompted so to do by the longing glances 
cast upon it so unblushingly by the doctor. 

“ What do you want ? ” he asked curtly. 

“I will not detain you long, sir. Indeed, I 
will be as brief as possible,” replied the 
doctor. 

“That will suit exactly,” and the voice 
and manner were not such as invited confi- 
dence. 

“I find myself to-day — on account of 
circumstances which I will not attempt to 
explain on this occasion, as I do not wish 
to encroach too far upon your valuable time — 
in great financial trouble, and knowing well 
your kind and charitable disposition, I have 
come to ask you to lend me the sum of five 
florins, for a few days only, I assure you. 
At the end of this time I will surely return 
the money, with many thanks for your kind- 
ness. It costs me a great deal to ask this of 
you, but — ” 

“I am extremely sorry, Mr. Feigel — ” 
Doctor — softly interpolated the little 


16 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


man, but the manufacturer ignored the protest 
of wounded dignity, and proceeded, — 

“ I am extremely sorry to refuse your 
request, but my list of pensioners is full, and 
I am not in circumstances to give alms pro- 
miscuously to the amount of five florins.” 

The crimson deepened in Dr. Feigel’s face. 

“ Sir,” he replied, “ I am no beggar, and 
have my pride as well as you have yours. 
Do not insult me, though destiny has not 
smiled upon me as she has upon you. I, 
alas, am indeed the step-child of Fortune,” 
lamented the doctor, with a pathos sadly 
detracted from by his exaggerated gestures 
and queer little figure. 

“ Then I most certainly beg your pardon,” 
said Mr. Breyer with ironical coldness, and, 
taking his money-box under his arm, he 
nodded coolly to the town-clerk of Hohenau 
and disappeared through the door of the 
counting-room, carefully closing it behind 
him. 

Dr. Feigel passed his arm slowly over his 
cherished hat and placed it carefully upon 
his head, after having arranged his sparse 
gray locks, and then proceeded to deliver a 
monologue, wjiich under no circumstances 
could have been understood as a flattering 


PA Y-DA Y. 


17 


estimate of Mr. Breyer’s character. After 
he had relieved his mind upon this subject 
and cast one long look upon the door 
through wliich the master had disappeared, 
in which wounded pride and desire for 
revenge struggled for mastery, he too left 
the room. As he stood in the vestibule,, 
sorrowfully re-considering the embarrassed 
condition of his financial affairs, light foot- 
steps were heard upon the stairs, and a 
second later a slight, boyish figure stood 
before him, wrapped in a long cloak, the 
twenty-year-old counterpart of Mr. Erasmus 
Breyer. Dr. Feigel started, for the thought 
had quickly suggested itself that the master 
had re-considered and was returning to heal 
his wounded honor by a timely application of 
the desired five-florin note. In this he was 
disappointed, but the figure which presented 
itself before him was not an unpleasant one 
to contemplate, and at its appearance a new 
hope sprang to life. He had not known of 
the presence of the younger Mr. Breyer in 
the neighborhood, but recollections of former 
experiences, when he had made the same 
“ reasonable representations ” to the younger 
man as he had just done to the father, gave 
him reason to hope that he might receive a 


18 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


more favorable answer from him, than that 
just granted by his father. 

He therefore lost no time in drawing near 
to him, and lifting his hat, with due defer- 
ence to its shattered condition, said : — 

“ Good morning, Mr. von Breyer.” 

“ Thanks for the title of nobility, to which 
in truth I suppose I have about as much 
right as you have to the title of ‘ doctor,’ 
Friend Feigel,” a jovial voice replied. “ But 
to what are we indebted for the honor of this 
visit ? ” continued the young man, motioning 
at the same time to the doctor to re-place his 
hat. 

“ My financial affairs,” replied the doctor, 
quickly following the more suggestion, “which 
have become so seriously involved that I was 
compelled to appeal to your honored father, 
with whom I hoped to arrange a small loan, 
a mere trifle, only five florins, in fact.’ 

“An arrangement into which he has failed 
to enter! I know the disposition of my 
‘honored father’ in such affairs, just about 
as well as your little peculiarities of tempera- 
ment are understood by mine host of the 
Star 1 

“ Mr. von Breyer is possessed of wonderful 


PAY-DAY. 19 

penetration, I must admit,” the doctor said, 
somewhat piqued. 

“No flattery, I beg. Friend Feigel,” pro- 
ceeded the young man gaily. “I believe I 
know still more, I believe I know your 
most secret thoughts at this very minute, 
and am so clever that I perceive deep 
down in the recesses of your heart that 
you are hoping that I will give you the five 
florins, which you were not clever enough to 
extract from my father’s pocket-book just 
now.” 

“ I am too proud to deny it,” replied the 
self-promoted doctor, with an air of inimita- 
ble dignity, “and I also cherish the hope that 
in a very short time I shall be able to return 
it to you. Mr. von Breyer will remain here 
some time ? ” 

“Long enough to know the meaning of 
Dr. Feigel’s ‘ very short time ! ’ Permit me 
to make you a little present of the amount ; ” 
and Mr. Breyer drew the coveted note from 
his pocket-book and handed it to the doctor. 

“Not as a present, no, never; but as a 
loan, with deepest gratitude,” protested the 
little man, with an air of righteous indigna- 
tion, quickly pocketing the money; “simply 
as a loan, I assure you.” 


20 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


“Well, we will not quarrel over the 
terms,” laughed the young man, good-na- 
turedly, as he hurried off to avoid the tor- 
rent of thanks which he perceived was about 
to be poured upon him. 

The man watched him till he vanished 
through the house door, and then, his air 
of cringing servility quickly changing to one 
of vindictive wrath, growled in a vindictive 
voice : - 

“Your pride and scorn shall yet come 
home to you, my fine fellow. ‘ Like father, 
like son.’ With the insolence of wealth 
you look down upon every poor man as upon 
a beggar ; but your money is no present ; I 
will pay you, though the day of reckoning 
will be somewhat different from what you 
anticipate. Dr. Feigel, whom you now hold 
in such proud contempt, -will on that day 
look down upon you and your miserable 
money-bags, from the heights to which 
Genius and Intellect will raise him.” 

And, swelling with anticipations of this 
great day, the little doctor strode pompously 
from the house and took his way towards the 
village. 


CHAPTER IL 


HOHENAU. 

H OHENAU, where the scenes, related in 
this little story were enacted, deserves 
a few words of description, before we pro- 
ceed further. It is a by no means insignificant 
village, upon the outskirts of an extensive 
agricultural district. It lies in a valley, 
almost surrounded by low rolling hills, be- 
hind wliich rise, at a short distance, a high 
range of mountains, so sharp and defined in 
their outlines that the bold peaks seem to 
pierce the blue heavens above. The cheerful 
homes, generally small whitewashed cottages, 
stand in friendly proximity, surrounded by 
well-tended orchards and fruit gardens whose 
bright foliage and abundant products bright- 
en the autumn landscape. But Hohenau 
does not consist of low thatched cottages 
alone. Rich out-lying farm lands, with their 
commodious dwellings and extensive barns 
and out-buildings (whose shining slate roofs 


22 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


have taken the place of the old-fashioned 
thatches, which in former days had furnished 
such ready fuel for the conflagrations that 
had at different times occurred in the neigh- 
borhood), formed beautiful and attractive fea- 
tures in the landscape. The soil is fruitful 
and rewards the honest toil of its workers. 
Upon the summit of the hill which rises 
almost in the centre of the village, shine the 
white walls of the parish church, whose slen- 
der and glittering spire points heavenwards 
like the finger of a faithful leader to his fol- 
lowers on a toilsome journey. Its bell rings 
out sweet and clear through summer’s heat 
and winter’s cold, and not in vain; for 
nearly all of those who hear its summons, 
acknowledge God to be their Lord, and 
know where best to seek Him and do Him 
honor. 

At the eastern end of the village is the 
factory mentioned in the previous chapter. 
It is a dark, massive structure, by no means 
calculated to impress the visitor favorably as 
he passes through this otherwise truly idyllic 
village. The black smokestack rises high 
above the little circle of workmen’s cottages, 
which cluster at its base, and on rainy days 
the great clouds of smoke gather so dense 


HOHENAU. 


23 


and dark, that they seem ready to press the 
little houses into the earth. These cottages 
are set apart for the use of those workmen, 
whose homes are far from Hohenau, and who 
spend their Sundays and holidays only with 
their distant families. Sometimes, by special 
favor granted by Mr. Breyer, the men were 
allowed to bring their families here, but this 
privilege was well-paid for by the liberal 
reduction he made in their wages. 

The factory had not always belonged to 
Mr. Breyer. At one time it was the property 
of a Mr. Frederick, a good and honest man, 
who was beloved and revered by all who 
knew him, especially by his employes, who 
looked upon him as a father, and who in 
turn treated them as men — and more — as 
friends, and did not consider their strength as 
simply capital, something to be traded upon 
till it was exhausted. His wife was a fitting 
help-meet for such a man, a woman whose 
charitable works and unaffected goodness 
were remembered and blessed for long years 
after death had ended her happy, useful life. 
After her death, however, the old home, 
where everything reminded the desolate old 
man of his irreparable loss, became unbear- 
able, and he determined to remain no longer 


24 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 


among associations so sad, but seek a home 
in a distant city with a brother, who was a 
government official there. When the work- 
men heard that their faithful friend and 
benefactor intended to leave them, and he 
told them that he was paying them their 
wages for the last time, many manly eyes 
were wet with unaccustomed tears, and all 
pressed around him, to kiss the wrinkled hand 
that had always rewarded their labors so will- 
ingly. 

And when the carriage stood before his 
door, ready to carry him from their midst, 
almost the entire village assembled to pay 
him the last tokens of respectful love. 
Tears rained over the face of the old man at 
this proof of their affection, and he rose in 
his carriage to stretch his hands as if in 
blessing over those, who had gathered to do 
him honor. 

Since then, times at the factory had sadly 
changed. The new owner was a proud, hard 
man, who held his workmen much as the 
planter in America used to hold liis slaves, 
a commodity to be used till exhausted, then 
cast aside as worthless, to make room for a 
fresh supply. The sharp contrast between 
the former time and this, was constantly in 


HOIIEJVAU. 


25 


their minds, and while they would have 
gladly carried the old master upon their 
hands, they but watched for the opportunity 
to tread the new one under their feet. His 
actions certainly entitled him to small consid- 
eration from the men, as his first meeting 
with them was signalized by a decided reduc- 
tion in their wages. Nor was it the fact 
alone, that the wages given by the new 
master were so much less than those granted 
by the old, but it was that no kind word 
accompanied the money that was evidently 
given so grudgingly, no sign of recognition 
ever greeting the men as they presented them- 
selves before him. Then came the second 
reduction of wages. No wonder the men 
grumbled as they stood before his door, and 
cast glances, sometimes sorrowful but far 
oftener angry and protesting, at the dwelling 
of the man they considered their tyrant. 

In the middle of the village, at the foot of 
the hill upon which stood the little church, is 
a little, old thatched-roofed cottage, so old 
that it seems to bend in all its joints and 
timbers, but bright and cheery in the neatness 
which marks its every feature. Luxuriant 
vines grow around the windows whose ten- 
drils sweep across the glittering panes of 


26 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

glass, nodding their friendly greetings to 
those within as well as to the passers-by. In 
the garden which surrounds the house bril- 
liant gardenias, glowing asters, and other 
autumn flowers, raise their heads rich and 
gay in their splendid colorings. In a low 
room is a poor but neatly clad woman of 
about forty-five, seated before a spinning- 
wheel, and whose glance constantly wan- 
ders to the window, as if watching for some 
one whose coming is late. The face is pale 
and sad, and the lines upon it do not write of 
life’s joys ; upon the narrow window-sill lies 
a Prayer-book, open at the “Prayers of the 
old for children,” the voice that ever rose 
from the faithful mother-heart ! At her feet 
two little children play, apparently aged 
about four and six years, but with none of 
the joyousness that usually marks the play of 
childhood. At last the soothing tick of the 
old clock upon the mantel gradually lost 
itself in the surring of the wheel, which 
went more and more slowly, softer and yet 
more softly grew its whisper, and the head 
of the pale woman dropped upon her breast, 
the thread slipped from the thin fingers, aiid 
the tired hands sank into her lap as the white 
lids closed over the kindly brown eyes, — all 


HOHENAU. 


21 


was still in the little room, and the mother 
slept, whilst the children continued their 
noiseless play and the flower-bells rang their 
sweet lullaby against the window, the long 
vines waving softly in the autumn wind as if 
to hush the too noisy passer-by. 

The door opened softly, and upon the 
threshold stood the figure of a young and 
blooming girl, who paused for a moment 
to look with clear innocent eyes upon the 
peaceful scene before her. Then, closing the 
door gently, she drew yet nearer and gazed 
lovingly down upon the unconscious face of 
the sleeper. The children quickly left their 
play and hung upon the young girl’s skirts 
with demonstrations of joy, but she hushed 
them gently, and taking the little one up in 
her arms whispered : — 

“Be still, dear baby, mamma sleeps, we 
must not wake her.” 

But the caution was needless, for a soft 
puff of wind tossed a straggling vine 
through the open window which gently 
tapped the pale face of the sleeper, and with 
a long sigh she aroused herself from her 
brief moment of forgetfulness. The young 
girl drew near her, and stealing her round 
arm about her neck, whispered lovingly : — 


28 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 


“Henry could not come to-day, but he 
sends you a loving greeting,” at the same 
time slipping a tiny packet into her hand. 
The elder woman raised her eyes, and 
gazed with the fond love of a mother into 
the bright face bending over her ; at the same 
time she lifted the hand that held the little 
package and said : — 

“ Did Henry send this ? ” 

A faint blush spread over the face of the 
girl, as she replied with a slight effort : — 

“ Why, of course. Mother Anna ! Who else 
would do it ? ” 

But the frank eyes avoided the penetrating 
glance of the questioner and wandered first 
to the vine-clad window, then sunk upon the 
two children who still hung about her. 

“You are so good, Marie,” continued the 
older woman,” and I know perfectly well 
that these are your little savings which you 
bring to me, and for which you wish to give 
Henry the credit. I cannot take them, dear 
child, indeed I cannot. You do so much and 
we are not in circumstances ever to repay 
you.” 

“ Do not talk so, dear Mother Anna, but 
take what I bring you as if I were your 
own dear child, I beg. I love you as fondly 


HOHENAU. 


29 


as if you were in truth my mother, and you 
deserve the love, for when they carried my 
dear mother there,” and she pointed through 
the window to the churchyard on the hill- 
side, “and I wept, a helpless child, beside 
the coffin because my father was so unhappy, 
you took me into your arms and kissed me, 
and said : ‘ My child, when you need a mother 
come to me ! ’ I did not understand then 
what you meant, but I knew you loved me, 
and ever since, when I have wanted my 
mother, I have come to you. Of course, I 
have my father, — my dear, dear father, — 
but the best of fathers often lack the eyes 
and quick feeling of a mother. And I have 
never come to you in vain. So you see, dear 
Mother Anna, why it is that I feel I have a 
right to bring these little gifts to you, and 
why you should give me the joy of accept- 
ing them. They are really only trifles, but I 
bring them to you because I love you so 
dearly, because you are so good to me.” 
Tears filled the eyes of the listener. 

“Thank you, my child,” she murmured 
softly, and even the children looked grate- 
fully and lovingly upon their young benefac- 
tress, and four tender little arms stretched 
themselves upwards to draw down the dear 


30 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


head with its long, blond tresses and to kiss 
the glowing cheeks and rosy lips of the 
lovely girh 

At this moment the door again opened, to 
admit the tall form of the pale, dark-bearded 
workman. His looks were more sorrowful 
than angry, and dark shadows which did not 
vanish even at the sight of the happy group 
before him, rested upon his face. 

“ Good evening. Father Kleemann,” said 
the young girl, freeing herself from the 
clinging embraces of the children. He 
answered her greeting kindly enough, but 
with such gravity that all were impressed 
and grew still. He laid his cap aside, and 
passed his rough hand fondly over the sunny 
heads of the children as he nodded silently 
to his wife, who still sat by the little win- 
dow. 

“ Has anything happened ? ” she inquired, 
“you look troubled.” 

The man still remained silent, and his wife 
rose in her anxiety and drew near to him, 
resting her hand tenderly upon his shoulder. 
He turned to her with a sorrowful look, and 
answered in broken tones the silent question 
in her loving, anxious eyes — 

“Yes, something has happened, — he has 


HOHENAU. 


31 


reduced our wages again. What is to 
become of us now, God only knows. Noth- 
ing but starvation remains for us. I do 
not mind for myself, but for you, Anna, 
and the children — ” 

He turned from her again and stood star- 
ing hopelessly out of the window. 

“Be comforted. Father Kleemann,” spoke a 
clear soft voice, and the young girl stood by 
the side of the sorrowful man, “ God never 
forsakes those who turn not from Him. You 
shall not starve, nor the dear children either, 
so long as there is a loaf of bread at the Prin- 
zenhof.” 

“ Ah, if every one were like you and your 
kind father, it would be like living in Para- 
dise here; or if Mr. Frederick were at the 
factory once more ; it was a joy to work with 
his friendly eyes to watch us, to hear his 
kind greeting which never failed us. But 
now, that is all gone, there is never a friendly 
word, only the unceasing grind and steady 
reduction of wages. He never seems to 
think, — this cruel man, — that we are 
human and have hearts that suffer, even if 
we are poor and have to work for every 
penny, or starve. If that is the will of the 
Lord, — well, I have nothing more to say.” 


32 


THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 


“But, John, you have brought up our 
children to be pious and good, and before them 
at least you must not become faint and weak- 
hearted and quarrel with Him, whom you have 
taught them to love and trust. All will yet 
be well. It is not as bad as you think. You 
can always earn something, and my spinning 
brings in a trifle and Henry’s wages are so 
good and come so regularly. We do not 
need so much after all. The good friends at 
the Prinzenhof will not fail us, and this dear 
child, — ” 

Marie laid her finger warningly upon her 
lips as a sign of silence to the good woman 
and said hastily, — 

“My father is, indeed, your good friend, 
and you can always rely upon him. Then 
Henry’s wages have been raised, you know, 
and this will balance the loss in yours. 
Father Kleemann. Indeed, vou must not 
fret.” 

“ Henry’s wages raised again ? since 
when?” 

“ Oh, — since yesterday,” replied the young 
girl hesitatingly, and blushed. She evidently 
had been caught in a little harmless prevari- 
cation. “ My father likes him so much. He 
is so good and industrious.” * 


HOHENAU. 


33 


“ May God bless your father ! ” 

The words came in deep, earnest tones 
from the workman, as he passed slowly and 
thoughtfully up and down the room, and 
after a short silence he continued : — 

“You are right, mother, we are never for- 
gotten on high, can we but only trust. The 
skies are grey to-day, but the sunshine will 
come again,” and the man bent fondly over 
his little children and raised them tenderly in 
his arms. Once more he was the happy 
father, and his dark eyes sparkled as the little 
things fearlessly pulled his black beard, or 
clasped their chubby arms about his neck, 
rejoicing that the cloud of sorrow which they 
could not understand, had passed away. 

“ As if we could be poor with these treas- 
ures. Just look at this little darling, Marie.” 

The “little darling,” however, was not con- 
tent to be looked at only, and stretched its 
eager little arms to its friend. “ Stop, you 
saucy fellow, why are }^ou never satisfied 
unless you have full possession of our Vil- 
lage Angel ? ” But before more can be said 
the young girl had bent over the rosy lips of 
the child, kissed him and after a few words 
to Mother Anna, — a whispered prayer that 
Father Kleemann should know nothing of his 
little gift, — departed. 


34 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


When Kleemann had called Marie the “An- 
gel of the Village,” he was certainly not far 
wrong, for not only her outward seeming, 
but her pure, always compassionate heart, 
gave her a right to the name. Where the 
poor, the sick, or the sorrowful were to be 
found, one was sure to meet the gentle daugh- 
ter of the Hofbauer, bringing always com- 
fort, counsel and help. As she passes slowly 
down the village street, towards her father’s 
house, we can observe her more closely. Her 
figure is slender almost to delicacy, of 
the build much oftener found in the con- 
fines of a city than in the freedom of a 
country district. Her features are delicate 
and refined, and the blond tresses frame the 
pure face with a sort of halo ; white, velvety 
eyelids cover the sweet blue eyes, her nose is 
chiselled in finest lines, and her rosy lips, and 
the glow of health which blooms upon her 
rounded cheeks, make up a picture of rare 
loveliness, animated by an expression of 
happy innocence. Her dress is simple, and 
corresponding with her position in life, its 
very simplicity displaying the perfect sym- 
metry of her figure and heightening the 
beauty of her fair face. 

Such loveliness, one will readily believe. 


HOHENAU. 


35 


does not pass unnoticed, and when on Sun- 
day Marie walks by her father’s side to the 
church, so chaste and modest in her pure 
beauty, the admiring gaze of all the young 
men of the village follow her till she is out 
of sight. No one wooed her for his own, for 
all knew that her father, good and benevo- 
lent as he was, was not devoid of a certain 
pride, and demanded something beyond what 
they felt they could give, for his daughter. 
Beside, there Avas something in the fair girl 
herself that all were conscious of upon a nearer 
approach, as if a nimbus surrounded her to 
hold those aloof, who would come too near. 
They all honored as well as loved her, 
although a certain shyness mingled with the 
feeling she inspired. Many would have con- 
sidered yielding much for her sake no sacri- 
fice if they could thereby win her love, but to 
confess this to her was more than any one of 
them had yet courage to do. • 

Slowly she pursued her way through the 
village, kindly acknowledging the friendly 
greetings of old and young, addressed to 
the young daughter of the owner of the 
Prinzenhof, but far more willingly and lov- 
ingly accorded to her as the dear angel of 
their village than to the child of the prosper- 
ous and infiuential Hofbauer. 


36 • THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


The entire village lay between the factory 
and the Prinzenhof, the factory being at the 
eastern end, the Prinzenhof, at the western; 
the latter being separated from the village by 
a linden avenue, about a mile in length, 
which led from the liighway up to its hospi- 
table doors. The owner was known far and 
near as the “ Hofbauer ” and the place 
received its name according to the old legend, 
long years before, when it was surrounded 
on every side by the thick woods, and a 
prince of the land came here to hunt. He 
v/andered from the way, became separated 
from his followers and found shelter for the 
night in the old house. At his departure 
he presented as a token of his grateful appre- 
ciation and souvenir of remembrance to the 
master of the house, a golden spur which 
still descends like a jewel from father to 
son, and is kept safely hidden from the cov- 
etous eyes of the curiosity seeker or sly grasp 
of the thief, who would fain possess himself 
of so rare a treasure. The Prinzenhof is 
beautifully situated at one end of the linden 
avenue already mentioned, and which was 
planted by an early owner of the fine old 
place, who for long years has slept in the 
little church-yard. Large forests now rise to 


HOBENAU. 


. 37 

lofty heights on two sides of the house, 
whilst in the rear a large lake looks heaven- 
ward, reflecting the extensive buildings in its 
silvery surface as in a mirror. Upon the 
banks of this beautiful lake grow tall reeds 
and graceful rushes, which bend and sway be- 
neath the faintest breeze and whose close- 
growing, flexible stems shelter hosts of shy 
water fowl. Graceful swans swim in sol- 
emn state upon its limpid surface, ducks 
and geese dive deep beneath its cove, dark 
waves and trailing vines, and gleaming water- 
lilies rise and fall upon the tranquil waters. 
No loveher place could be imagined for a 
stroll or for an hour of quiet meditation than 
the shady, retired walk which encircled this 
lovely lake. It was a beloved haunt of Ma- 
rie’s, who often sought its sweet seclusion in 
the sunset’s glow with a favorite book, or 
later, passed here a silent hour in loving 
thought of her dear dead mother, while the 
twilight deepened, and the rays of the moon 
touched the tall reeds with a shining radi- 
ance, and the stars, as they shone one after 
another in the dark blue heavens, cast their 
reflections in long lines of shimmering light 
across the peaceful water. 

But to-day was not one in which to linger 


38 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


in this lovely spot. The day was closing in, 
dark and cheerless, the clouds hung low as if 
they would press all signs of life back into 
the heart of Mother Earth, and a frosty 
breath in the air penetrated everything with 
a premonition of winter. Marie had trav- 
ersed almost the entire length of the avenue, 
when from the shadow of a tall linden, a 
figure suddenly appeared, wrapped in a 
long cloak, — that of Julius Breyer. The 
young girl, startled by the sudden appari- 
tion, involuntarily took a backward step, 
but the young man stood close by her side, 
Avhispering : — 

“ Pardon me, my beautiful Marie, if I have 
frightened you. I have been home but a few 
hours, but I could wait no longer to see you, 
to hear your sweet voice and tell you how 
dearly I love you.” 

By this time Marie had recovered her com- 
posure, and said with what calmness she 
could assume : — 

“Mr. Breyer, you will kindly make room 
for me to pass, and not annoy me with fur- 
ther protestations of your love.” 

“ Why are you so hard upon me, my dear 
girl ? Many a fine lady in the city would be 
highly flattered if I said one half of the 


HOHENAU. 


39 


pretty things to her, that I waste upon you. 
But you alone stir my poor heart, and you 
must hear me. Tell me, what is it in me 
that displeases you ? ” 

“ Mr. von Breyer, be generous and leave 
me ; indeed, I am in great haste. Give your 
love to the fine city ladies who desire it, I do 
not want it. Why should you waste your 
affections upon me, a simple country girl, 
who knows and cares nothing about such 
things.” 

“ But I assure you, you are far dearer to 
me than these dressed-up city dolls, with 
love upon their lips, but cold, proud hearts in 
their bosoms ; far more charming are you to 
me, my charming Marie.” 

“You know well how to talk and flatter 
very cleverly, but I must once more beg you 
to spare me your civilities and allow me to 
pass. My father will be waiting for me.” 

“Not before you pay me with a kiss for 
your freedom, you obstinate little thing, and 
tell me that you do not leave me with con- 
tempt.” 

And the young man had already ap- 
proached the shrinking girl and was about 
to throw his arm around her resisting form, 
when a strong hand seized him by the collar 


40 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


and a mighty fist felled him to the ground. 
A flushed face bent over the prostrate man, 
and flashing eyes blazing with excitement 
glared at him, belonging to a man, young also, 
dressed in simple peasant dress. As he 
looked down at the figure at his feet, he 
seemed to recognize it as the younger Mr. 
Breyer for the first time, and said : — 

“ I beg your pardon, sir, if I have handled 
you roughly, but I thought it was some evil- 
disposed stranger who had attacked Marie, 
and I came to her assistance. I could fiot 
for a moment have supposed that it was 
you.” 

Mr. Breyer had risen by this time, and 
hastily brushing the dust from his clothes, he 
cast one glance of unspeakable hate and rage 
upon his opponent, then turned without a 
word and beat a hasty retreat towards the 
village. 

“ Thank you again and again, Henry,” ex- 
claimed the frightened girl, “ you have done 
me a good service, but indeed, you need not 
have pummelled the poor fellow quite so un- 
mercifully.” 

“ Perhaps it would have been as well, but 
you see, Marie, I had no time for consider- 
ation, and I am not accustomed to working 


HOHENAU. 


41 


in gloves. Whether he will overlook the 
rough treatment or not I cannot say, nor do 
I much care, if I have only served you. He 
cannot harm me.” 

The two proceeded slowly towards the 
Prinzenhof. 

“ Do not speak of it to my father, Henry, 
promise me this. It would trouble him so.” 

“ If you wish it, I will certainly be silent, 
but I do beg you not to wander so far from 
home alone, especially towards evening. In- 
deed, it is not safe. You do not know just 
when you may meet such fellows as you 
have met tliis evening, and a saving hand is 
not always so ready.” 

“ I suppose you are right, and I will short- 
en my evening walks, but to-night I could 
not come earlier. I have been to see your 
father and mother.” 

“ Have you, indeed ? How are they ? ” 

“Very well, but your father was very un- 
happy, because there has been another reduc- 
tion made in the wages at the factory.” 

“ Another ! Then I only wish I had given 
young Mr. Breyer an extra thrashing.” 

“ But he is not responsible for his father’s 
actions. He is really a nice sort of a young 
man, only a little light-headed.” 


42 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


“ There you are again ; you really are 
goodness itself. Scarcely are you rescued 
from him before you stand up in his de- 
fence.” 

The young people by this time had reached 
the gates of the Prinzenhof and entered. 
The great watch dog rattled his chain, and 
rubbed himself against his young mistress, 
who passed her slender fingers caressingly 
over his beautiful head as she went into the 
house. In the spacious room, in the middle 
of which rose a massive column as support to 
the roof, sat Ulrich, the Hofbauer, by a large 
oak table whose whiteness from repeated 
scourings was actually dazzling. He seemed 
to have resigned himself to pleasant medita- 
tions as he sat in his comfortable arm-chair, 
watching the blue wreaths as they floated 
upward from the silver-bound bowl of his 
cherished pipe, which he held in his mouth. 
He was a tall, stately old man, with honest, 
true-hearted eyes and an abundance of silver}' 
grey hair. He wore a short green jacket, 
black leather breeches and high top boots; 
his vest was of some dark material, orna- 
mented with a double row of enormous 
buttons, over which a loosely-tied red neck- 
erchief fell in long folds. 


HOHENAU. 


43 


He was known far and wide as a prosper- 
ous man, and as a good man as well, as 
one whose neighbor was never left in need, 
whose house-door stood hospitably open for 
the weary traveller, and whose barns were at 
the service of the impoverished and unfortu- 
nate. He raised his head quickly, at the 
entrance of his daughter, and said kindly : — 

“ You were long away, Marie.” 

“ Did you wait for me, father? Forgive 
me, but I went to the Kleemanns’; only think, 
that dreadful man has made another reduc- 
tion in the men’s wages ; is it not sinful ? ” 

The Hofbauer had leaned forward with 
hands crossed upon the table, and waited to 
watch the smoke-rings for a moment before 
he said ; — 

‘‘ Another reduction ! That will make 
bad blood, I am afraid, and is short-sighted of 
von Breyer.” 

“ Poor Kleemann was in despair when he 
came home,” continued Marie, “ and we had 
a great time with him before he became calm 
and see once more God’s hand in the guid- 
ance. And I have something more to tell 
you, dear father, but you must promise me 
first that you will not be angry, but when I 
saw them all in such trouble I told them that 


44 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 


you had raised Henry’s wages. Will you 
punish me for the story ? ” 

Her father said nothing for a moment, but 
looked up into the bright eyes which were 
bent so appealingly upon him and whose 
prayers he had never yet denied, then slowly 
puffing the smoke twice, thrice from his pipe 
said : — 

“ Of course, if you have said that he is to 
get more wages, I must make your word 
good, but I think it would be better for you 
to be a trifle slower in making such promises, 
do not you ? ” 

“ You are not angry, are you, dear father? ” 
and she slipped one arm lovingly around his 
neck, and with her disengaged hand patted 
the wrinkled face. 

“You know only too well that I cannot re- 
fuse you anything. But go now and see to 
the supper, the people will soon be here.” 

The girl ran quickly to attend to her du- 
ties, and soon a coarse, but pure white linen 
cloth covered the table and a large steaming 
dish was placed upon it. The farm servants 
and women entered, and with a respectful 
greeting, placed themselves, according to the 
old-fashioned custom, around the table, Dr. 
Feigel also appeared and took his place be- 


HOHENAU. 


45 


side the Hofbauer. As town-clerk he had 
board and lodging at the Prinzenhof, the res- 
idence of the magistrate of the parish. The 
Hofbauer made the sign of the cross, and 
then repeated slowly the Lord’s Prayer aloud, 
in which all joined. Then they seated them- 
selves, the master at the same table with his 
servants, eating with them out of the same 
dish. After the soup was served, potatoes 
were brought in and were also partaken of in 
silence. Then all rose from the table, the 
prayer was repeated precisely as before, and 
all withdrew, except Henry, whom the Hof- 
bauer detained to inform him of the unex- 
pected addition in his wages. 

In a little while lights shone from the 
upper windows of the Prinzenhof, then dark- 
ness prevailed through the large buildings, 
the moonlight alone shed its soft light over 
the grey roof, and in the court-yard below the 
lurid eyes of the watch-dog alone gleamed 
through the silent, shadowy darkness. 


CHAPTER III. 


A STRIKE. 


HE afternoon service was over, and the 



1 inhabitants of Hohenau left the peace- 
ful house of God. The little village soon was 
as quiet and still as if deserted by man — a 
true Sunday stillness reigning over this little 
retreat, far from the busier haunts of men. 
Only in one house, whose upper story built of 
wood projected over the lower, which was 
built of stone, some signs of life evidenced 
themselves. It was the inn of the village, 
the “ Star ” as the half effaced picture upon 
the wooden sign over the door indicated, 
where the men of Hohenau on Sunday after- 
noons and upon autumn and winter evenings 
assembled. The host, a comfortable little 
man, who also followed the noble occupation 
of butchering, stood in the door-way, a thread- 
bare green velvet cap upon his head, and 
stared as earnestly into the heavens as if he 
hoped to discover a new planet in the broad 


A STRIKE. 


47 


light of day, or as if he were seeking fresh 
computations by which he proposed to ar- 
range a new calender. In the large public 
room, — out of which opened a smaller one 
devoted to the use of those of higher rank, 
who might claim the hospitality of the inn, 
and which was decorated with much greater 
care and elegance than the larger, — sat at 
different tables the habitu<3S of the house, 
filling the room with such volumes of tobacco 
smoke, that one who would enter must pause 
upon the threshold, to accustom his eyes to 
the atmosphere before he could find his way 
through the room and learn who the occu- 
pants were. These were chiefly workmen 
who spent their leisure hours here, too many 
of them pouring the wages of the past week 
down their throats, unmindful alike of the 
needs of their families and of the coming six 
days in which they could not live upon air, 
pure as it was in Hohenau. At a table in a 
corner beams the fat, shining face of Dr. 
Feigel with the glittering glasses astride its 
nose. He seemed to feel extremely comfort- 
able as he sipped his beer from time to time 
with unmistakable enjoyment, and silently 
observed the scene before him. 

The company was a very animated one. 


48 THE ANGEL OF THE FILL AGE, 


talking so eagerly and all at once, that it was 
impossible to understand the meaning of 
what they would say. But at all the tables 
the conversation had but one subject — the 
renewed reduction of their wages, — conse- 
quently the roughest and most opprobrious 
epithets were applied to the master by the 
excited men, whose tempers were raised but 
not improved by their frequent potations. 
Dr. Feigel observed all silently from his cor- 
ner, the flushed faces, the angry voices, and 
as he listened to the jingle of the glasses 
upon the tables, which resounded beneath ve- 
hement blows of the brawny fists, the deep 
and sincere satisfaction inspired by these 
manifestations showed itself in his rubicund 
countenance. He earnestly desired that 
these men should hate the manufacturer as 
he hated him, and he watched his opportu- 
nity to pile fresh fuel upon the flames al- 
ready kindled. With all the strength of 
his lungs he broke into the tumult: — 

“ Silence, you people, and let me speak a 
few words.’^ 

In an instant all was still and all eyes 
were turned to the familiar figure of the little 
man, who now rose pompously to his feet. 


A STRIKE. 


49 


“ Nonsense, we don’t want words, we want 
help,” exclaimed a haggard workman. 

“Yes, we want help,” growled the rest in 
chorus. 

“Be quiet,” repeated the doctor, “ I will 
give you advice that will help you, only lis- 
ten to me for a minute.” 

“ Then speak.” 

“We will listen,” they called on all sides. 
“ Up on the table, Doctor ! ” 

The little fellow obeyed and climbed labo- 
riously upon the table, which groaned beneath 
the unaccustomed weight. He proceeded to 
blow his nose vigorously, pushed his great 
spectacles high upon his forehead, pressed 
his left arm firmly to his side, and projecting 
his right leg manfully forward, he began in 
solemn, bombastic tone : — 

“Fellow-citizens of Hohenau ! an act of in- 
justice has been committed which must be 
registered in the annals of our community. 
Recently, for the second time, there has been 
a reduction made in the wages of the labor- 
ers, the hardly-won wages earned by the 
sweat of your honest brows. You are not 
treated as men, you are used as tools and 
machines, you are oppressed and abused. 


50 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 


You are poor, of course, and must have the 
niggardly sum he gives you, or go to the 
ground if it fails you ; the rich man knows 
that well, and so he feels that he can grind 
you into the very dust. Or do you fancy 
that this is to be the last time that you are 
to feel the tyrant’s power? If you do, you 
are very much mistaken. He rakes and 
scrapes his money together though it is wet 
with your blood, but what is that to him ? 
He is the master and you are his slaves — or 
are you not ? It is for you to say. Did he 
not hunt you out like a dog, Jacob Wehle, 
when you could not work at the beginning of 
your sickness, and say he did not want you, 
he could get a hundred in your place. And 
to you, Franz Haubt, what did he say when 
you begged so hard for a few days from the 
factory to watch your dying wife ? “ Go, 

but if you go, don’t come back ; I need my 
men in the factory, your wife is no concern 
of mine. I do not allow myself to be short 
of workmen.” And he told the truth. On 
the contrary, he knows that the poor and 
those who cannot work must beg if they will 
not starve, he sneers at their want and 
laughs in his sleeve at their dependence upon 
him, and gives the screw another turn. 


A STRIKE. 


51 


Why not ? There is no one to hinder, no 
one to help the poor man unless he helps 
himself. Oh yes, you can clasp your hands 
and raise your eyes and pray to your God in 
heaven, but He does not hear you. He is 
deaf!” 

“ Stop there, doctor ! ” 

‘‘ Silence ! ” 

“Do not insult the name of God,” were 
the confused cries that rose on all sides. 

“ You must help yourselves,” continued the 
orator ; “ you are as necessary to the proud, 
rich Breyer as. he is to you, even more neces- 
sary. Don’t you see that if he has no work- 
men his business must stop, his payments 
must cease, then he must inevitably become 
a bankrupt ? It is but a question of time. 
You have him more securely in your clutches 
than he has you in his. But one thing is 
necessary, you must hang together. Deter- 
mine to remain away from the factory in a 
body, the machines must then stand still, and 
you will see in a few days what will be the 
result. So soon as no smoke pours out of 
the black chimneys he will come to you, and 
then you will dictate your own terms to the 
master. Other workmen are not easily 
found, and at the wages he gives, none at aU. 


62 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

Consider what I have said to you ; I have 
advised you as your firm friend and devoted 
well-wisher. Begin to-morrow morning to 
act upon my advice, and you will soon find 
how good the fruit of your actions will be, 
and how quickly it will reward you. You 
are not the first who have used the means, 
their efficacy have been proven many times 
and you need not fear for the results. So 
courage, men; help yourselves with hand 
and head ! Dixi ! ” 

And the orator wiped the great drops of 
perspiration from his dripping forehead and 
descended from his tribune to draw long 
draughts of beer as he once more silently ob- 
served the men and the effect of his words 
upon them. 

“ He is right.” 

“We will do it.” 

“ He does need us.” 

“We will stop for a few days.” 

“ He must change if he sees we are in ear- 
nest,” were the expressions from the different 
men, who had made up the audience. 

“ Our hands upon it, we do not go to work 
to-morrow,” declared the man who had been 
the first to interrupt the doctor, “ do all who 
are present agree to this ? ” 


A STRIKE. 


53 


An emphatic “ yes, yes,” echoed through 
the room, “ doctor, you are a good fellow, a 
good friend of the workmen,” and all pressed 
around the little man, whose countenance 
shone with proud self-consciousness. 

“ But you alone are not sufficient,” he re- 
sumed, “ the rest of the men must join you. 
Go find them and win them to the good 
work. Go from house to house and repre- 
sent to them the necessity of unanimity. 
You will have easy work when the manufac- 
turer realizes that he has no friends. Now 
go, my men, and save your money instead of 
pouring it down your throats here. You 
will need it to help you through the few 
days, which you will require to break the 
pride of the tyrant.” 

This last advice was undoubtedly the best 
the doctor had given them in a long time, 
and his hearers were wise enough to follow 
it. Soon the doctor sat alone in his corner, 
chuckling contentedly over the effects of his 
eloquence and laid the flattering verdict to 
liis soul that Cicero himself had not more 
successfully swayed the Roman populace 
than he had the Hohenau operatives to-day. 

These men were now making a systematic 
tour of the cottages of their fellow-laborers, 


64 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


eagerly pouring the insidious poison of the 
specious arguments so cleverly used by the 
wily doctor, into the hearts of the men, 
already so embittered with hatred against the 
master, that they were more than ready, 
eager, in fact, for any extreme measures. 
The majority gave a ready promise to remain 
absent from the factory, till the master surren- 
dered, though some, unfortunately a limited 
number, would not agree to act upon such an 
uncertainty, maintaining that it would be far 
easier for the rich manufacturer to do with- 
out them than it would be for them to do 
without him. To the latter class John Klee- 
mann belonged. He pondered the subject 
well, his antagonism to Mr. Breyer prompted 
him to join forces with the rebels, but the 
supplicating protest he saw in the eyes of his 
wife, the careless innocence of his little chil- 
dren playing at his feet, won the day, and he 
resolutely refused. 

“ Upon what would the little ones live, if 
their father earned no bread for them, and 
how could he give them bread if he had abso- 
lutely no wages ? You see, friends, I cannot 
do otherwise. If you can hold out long 
enough and be successful, I shall be very 
glad, but I fear you will gain nothing by 
what you are about to do.” 


A STRIKE. 


55 


In such manner the honest man spoke, 
and the would-be tempters retired. The 
moderate view which he took of the situation 
somewhat cooled the ardor of the others, but 
they had given their word, and neither could 
or would retreat. The following morning 
the long halls of the factory were compara- 
tively empty, and rage and astonishment 
filled the heart of the master when he real- 
ized the actual situation, but he maintained 
his usual self-control and his countenance 
gave no sign of the perturbation of his mind ; 
he made no allusion to the changed condition 
of affairs, nor spoke a kindlier word of recog- 
nition to those who appeared faithfully at 
their posts. 

The high chimneys poured forth their 
black clouds of smoke as before, and the 
whirling looms and busy goings to and fro 
gave no sign of needed power to impel the 
usual routine of work. Dr. Feigel, who on 
the previous evening had rubbed his hands 
so joyously together, became somewhat de- 
spondent, and the men wandered aimlessly 
through the village, waiting and hoping in 
vain for the message from Mr. Breyer, which 
was to recall them to their posts. 

The afternoon found them, of course, at 


56 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


the “ Star ” — how else could they spend 
the time which hung so heavily upon their 
hands ? Here they fortified themselves with 
liberal draughts of beer, and strengthened 
their resolutions with reiterated abuse of the 
master, although many a poor fellow, after 
calmer consideration of the hasty step he had 
taken, would gladly have withdrawn himself 
from its consequences and returned to his 
work, had it been possible for him to have 
done so gracefully. Already they seemed to 
wear a hungry look, and one could see that 
the strike could not last long. Wife and 
child must soon suffer, and “mine host,” 
though civil enough, was by no means the 
beaming, jovial man who pressed his hospi- 
talities upon them so generously when they 
had come to him with their week’s wages in 
their pockets. 

The Hofbauer had heard of the strike, and 
waited, with anxiety, for further develop- 
ments, for he had no doubt that the result 
would be far from beneficial to the men. He 
knew that Dr. Feigel had been the prime 
mover in the whole affair and that it had 
been his restless spirit which, had lead them 
to this decisive, and, he feared, suicidal 
action, and ke availed himself of the first 


A STRIKE, 


57 


opportunity which presented itself to remon- 
strate with him, representing in most earnest 
words the folly and imprudence of liis 
course. To all this Dr. Feigel listened in si- 
lence and with an air of proud resignation 
suited to one who was a martyr to a cause, 
but he registered a vow of eternal hate and 
deadly animosity to the honest old man, 
which sentiment, however, from motives of 
policy, he cleverly disguised, until the time 
came to publicly declare it under his usual re- 
spectful demeanor to the Hofbauer. Had he 
not depended upon him for his actual subsist- 
ence he would quickly have assumed 
another attitude, but in the solitude of his 
own room he gave vent to his feelings in the 
deliverance of a jeremiad against the moral 
limitations set upon his freedom. For the 
first time he felt oppressed by the restrictions 
set upon him by his sphere in life ; a simple 
peasant, his inferior in cultivation as well as 
natural intellect, his law-giver, at liberty to 
administer reproof to which he must submit 
silently, — he — the man, who by the power of 
his great talents felt himself equal to play a 
prominent part upon any stage, much less the 
narrow one of Hohenau, who felt himself 
called to be the Messiah of these poor, down- 


58 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

trodden people, who had already yielded 
themselves so readily to his masterly elo- 
quence, — should he bury these royal talents 
at the behest of this old man, whom destiny 
had unhappily placed above him in the social 
scale ? 

These, and a host of sentiments similar in 
character, agitated the super-sensitive heart 
of the town-clerk of Hohenau, and he wound 
up by announcing himself formally as the in- 
veterate foe of the manufacturer and the 
Hofbauer, an avowed antagonist of the 
power at the east and west of Hohenau, 
although, for reasons before mentioned, he 
determined to disguise this under a manner 
suitable to each of his enemies. 

It was not the sense of responsibility alone, 
which he felt as magistrate of the village, 
that impelled the Hofbauer to take measures 
that would lead the erring men back into the 
right path, but his compassionate heart sym- 
patliized with them in the griefs they had 
brought upon themselves. An effort in this 
direction must result in good, for the time 
had come when the defiant spirit of the men 
was in a great measure broken, and they 
were quite ready to lend a listening ear to 
reasonable argument and seize the earliest 


A STRIKE. 


59 


opportunity to forsake their hastily assumed 
position. 

On Saturday evening, when the usual 
crowd had assembled at the “ Star,” all were 
surprised by the appearance of the well- 
known figure of the Hofbauer. To-day no 
noisy signs of life animated the once jovial 
company. The men sat quietly together, and 
discussed in lower tones and with clearer in- 
sight the condition of their affairs and took 
quite a different view of them from that, 
which had called forth such stormy discus- 
sion hut one short week before. 

The old, insolent pride was not quite 
subjugated however, and in view of the 
truer recognition of their needs, they could 
not humiliate themselves to break their com- 
pact among themselves and seek the work 
they had voluntarily relinquished; but in 
point of fact, each one waited only for an ex- 
cuse, whereby he could feel justified in for- 
getting his pride. No one, however, was 
willing to be the first one to step from the 
ranks into which he had sworn himself, and 
each one therefore had his own reason for 
welcoming the Hofbauer, and listened with 
peculiar interest to the words which fell 
from his lips with the usual deliberation that 


60 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 


marked the language of the good and sensi- 
ble old man. 

Men ! God sends us work, and ‘ he who 
does not work shall not eat,’ is an old adage. 
If you have withdrawn yourselves from your 
work, you have not benefited, but harmed 
yourselves, and you do not need words of 
mine to prove that you have done this. To 
what will this idleness lead? Would you 
leave your wives and children to starve? 
Or, are you really so mad as to think that 
you can force Mr. Breyer into raising your 
wages? You may do so by your obstinacy, 
which under no circumstances is to be ap- 
proved of ; if you could hold out for three 
months, then it might be possible. But is 
it possible for you to hold out for such a 
length of time ? Every one agrees with you 
that you have been wronged, that your 
wages are not what they should be, but you 
have received something at least, and a few 
pennies are better than nothing at all ; but 
you can readily see that your idleness will 
soon entail new and heavier burdens upon 
you. Go, humble yourselves, and if the 
worst comes, comfort yourselves with the 
thought that you have done your duty, and 
the God of love, who reigns above us will not 


A STRIKE. 


61 


desert you. The consciousness of right- 
doing, even the consciousness of enduring 
wrong patiently, is the truest, best comfort 
granted to us in adversity, and the knowl- 
edge of work well done exalts the humblest 
worker. And if need comes to one or the 
other of you, the Prinzenhof is not far off, 
and old Ulrich has never yet turned any one 
from his door and never will. Go again to 
your master and ask him to take you back, 
go to work bravely and honestly and bear 
patiently whatever the Lord may see fit to 
send upon you.” The plain, honest words of 
the righteous man sank into the hearts of his 
hearers and were speedily fruitful of good 
results. The men, after a short conference 
among themselves, agreed to send a deputa- 
tion the next morning to the master, begging 
him to forgive their ill-advised action and to 
give them work once more. If their prayer 
was refused, which they rather apprehended, 
the Hofbauer promised to intercede for them, 
and so the matter rested. 


CHAPTER IV. 


HOFEATH VON KALEE. 

S UNDAY morning shone over Hohenau, a 
very ideal Sunday morning ; autumnal, 
but with none of autumn’s greyness and 
gloom, and the sun poured his warm floods of 
golden radiance through the little windows of 
the humble laborer’s cottage, with the same 
lavish generosity as into those of the ele- 
gantly appointed breakfast room of Mr. Eras- 
mus Breyer, who sat there with a guest at the 
morning meal. The stranger was a man of 
medium size, dressed simply in black. His 
face was round, and his complexion ruddy ; 
his clear bright eyes shone beneath a calm, 
thoughtful forehead, over which the hair, 
slightly fringed with grey, fell in heavy 
masses. His host treated him with a distin- 
guished courtesy and polite consideration, 
which seldom characterized his deportment 
and was a sharp contrast to that which he re- 
served for his workmen. The man opposite 
to him was, in fact, possessed of great power 


HOFRA TH VON KALER. 


63 


and influence at court, and Mr. Erasmus 
Breyerwas quite crafty and clever enough to 
bow his head and bend his neck before such 
a man, if by so doing he could carry himself 
the more proudly before his people. 

Hofrath von Kaler had come solely for the 
purpose of observing the mode of manage- 
ment pursued by the celebrated business man, 
and to familiarize himself with his methods 
of conducting his large industrial interests. 
It was, therefore, the more annoying to the 
manufacturer, that this visit had come at this 
especial time, when his factory was almost 
deserted, so many of his workmen being ab- 
sent from their posts. He had not antici- 
pated for one moment that the half-starved 
people, whom he felt assured had no other 
means of subsistence than that, which he 
granted them, could for so long a time op- 
pose him, and he had already determined, on 
account of the approaching visit of Hofrath 
von Kaler, to negotiate with the men, for he 
saw plainly that he could not lead his guest 
through the halls of the almost empty fac- 
tory without betraying the bad state of 
affairs, into which he was plunged by their 
insubordination, especially as he could not 
give a satisfactory explanation of the cause. 


64 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

He was, therefore, in a far from amiable 
frame of mind on this lovely Sunday morn- 
ing, as seated opposite his guest he sought 
by all the means he was master to conceal 
his mental disturbance, for ever since the ar- 
rival of the distinguished stranger the mas- 
ter’s mind had been absorbed by one 
thought, to the exclusion of all other consid- 
erations. Mr. Breyer possessed one am- 
bition, to gratify which he had made more 
than one sacrifice, and he now felt that he 
was nearing the goal, and that soon the long 
coveted, eagerly desired star or cross would 
shine upon his breast, though either one 
as a symbol of holiness was pretty consis- 
tently ignored by the worldly-minded man 
whose God was mammon. This, however, de- 
pended entirely upon the reports made by the 
Hofrath as to the management of his affairs, 
and these could not be favorable, when his 
forces were represented by the miserable 
handful of men instead of the little army of 
operatives that he was wont to command. It 
was a hard fight which the man fought ; on the 
one hand, to humble himself before his own 
workmen, whom hitherto he had treated as a 
class of beings unworthy of simplest recogni- 
tion ; on the other, the glittering medal of 


IIOFRA TH VON KALER. 


65 


honor; and his resolution was taken. On 
that very afternoon he would announce to 
the few remaining workmen the fact that 
their wages had been again raised, and send 
for the strikers to appear at the factory the 
next morning at the usual hour. This all 
was passing through his mind as he sat with 
his guest, discussing pohtical and financial 
affairs, and often, in spite of his most stren- 
uous efforts to appear unconcerned, his 
thoughts would wander far from the topics 
under discussion, and he would give such 
answers to the Hofrath’s remarks that would 
cause the sharp eyes of that gentleman to 
open wide in astonishment and cast inquir- 
ing glances upon his host. But Mr. Breyer 
was too thoroughly a man of the world not 
to quickly grasp the thread of the conversa- 
tion, and by a skilful turn cause his guest to 
forget his momentary oblivion. A rap upon 
the door interrupted the conversation, and, 
in response to the master’s quiet “ come in,” 
four plainly dressed men entered and stood, 
twisting their shabby caps in their embarrass- 
ment before the two gentlemen. One glance 
at the poor fellows raised a load from the 
mind of the manufacturer. There would be 
no need for him to humble himself before his 


66 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


men. He knew in an instant what their 
errand was, and said in a tone of friendliness 
to which they were strangers, as he nodded 
in acknowledgment of their half trembling 
salutation : — 

“ Go into the counting-room if you want 
to see me ; I will meet you there.” 

When the door closed upon them, he said, 
nonchalantly to his guest : — 

“ Some of my men ; they have probably 
come to ask an advance of their wages. I 
have done this for them before, contrary to 
my best judgment, for I do not feel that it 
is a wise thing to do, to encourage them in 
these habits ; but their great need, caused by 
their own imprudence it is true, has over- 
come my scruples, and I have granted their 
prayer. Excuse me for a moment, please.” 

Hofrath von Kaler bowed politely to his* 
host and withdrew to the window, to enjoy 
the beautiful landscape which stretched be- 
neath it, clothed in its brilliant autumn ves- 
ture, and the master proceeded to his count- 
ing-room. His glance was dark and sinister, 
and the poor fellows seemed to feel its power 
penetrate to their very marrow, as they drew 
closer together and stood with their eyes 
bent upon the ground, as if oppressed by a 
sense of sin and crime committed. 


HOFRA TH VON KALER. 


67 


“ What do you want ? I am in a hurry,*’ 
the master said in a tone illy calculated to 
inspire them with courage. The bravest of 
them then stood forward and said : — 

“ Mr. von Breyer, we have come in our 
own name and in the names of our fellow- 
workmen, to beg you to forgive us for leav- 
ing you as we did ; indeed, we would not 
have done it had it not been for Dr. Feigel, 
who led us wrong. We beg you to take us 
back again, and we will promise never again 
to take part in such proceedings.” 

At the name of “ Dr. Feigel ” a momentary 
smile flitted over the thin lips of the master, 
but quickly disappeared, and his bearing was 
as forbidding as ever as he answered : — 

“ I do not need you ; the men who have 
stood by me are quite sufficient. I told you 
that you were at liberty to go if the wages 
did not suit you, and you left. That was 
perfectly right. I am satisfied, and you 
ought to be. You need not concern your- 
selves further, I can get on very well without 
you, and my business will not suffer for need 
of you ; ” and he turned to leave them. 

“ But, Mr. Breyer, we beg, we pray you to 
listen ; it is not for ourselves alone that we 
ask you to forgive us, but think of our wives 


68 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

and of our children who must suffer and die 
if you will not hear us.” 

It was the cry of despair which wailed 
from the over-burdened heart of a distracted 
father. 

“ You should have considered this sooner ; 
it is too late now. I will not endure inso- 
lence from my subordinates, and you have 
only punished yourselves by your behavior. 
I have no work for you.” 

For an instant the men stood helpless and 
silent before the hard-hearted man, who 
leaned against a table, carelessly fluttering 
the leaves of a book which lay upon it. 

“ Comrades, we will not go down on our 
knees to him. God will be more merciful. 
He will hear our prayers and help us,” said 
one of the little company, and they turned 
slowly and sorrowfully to depart. This the 
manufacturer had not anticipated ; he 
thought they would have abased themselves 
before him utterly, but he saw now that they 
had some pride left, and while they were 
quite willing to make one apology, did not 
propose sacrificing their self-respect entirely. 
He quickly re-called them, and said: — 

“ I have considered it, and for the sake of 
humanity and out of consideration for those 


HOFRATH VON' KALER. 


69 


who are dependent upon you — not for your 
sakes — please to understand, I will again 
take you into my employ, paying you the 
same wages that I told you last Saturday I 
would give you. Say this to the others, and 
see that you are in your places in good time 
to-morrow morning.” 

He left them abruptly, no gentler tone or 
kindlier word softening the asperity of his 
brusque speech. But the men were accus- 
tomed to this, and joyfully returned to their 
waiting comrades to report to them the result 
of their mission. 

* The next morning the Hofrath made a 
thorough inspection of the factory, and an- 
nounced to the proprietor that he found it 
entirely satisfactory. One feature only had 
he observed, of which he could not approve. 
He had noticed a number of children at work 
whose ages could not have exceeded seven 
years, and to this man, truly humane at heart, 
the inevitable dwarfing of the young lives 
which must ensue from tliis system of man- 
agement, mental as well as physical, was 
terrible to contemplate. He did not at all 
conceal his views from Mr. Breyer, but de- 
picted in strongest terms the evils that must 
result from the continuance of this plan of 


70 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


labor, and discussed the question in all its 
bearings. 

The introduction of machinery made a 
long apprenticeship unnecessary, and the me- 
chanical motion being light, it is well 
adapted to childish strength. But if a child 
lives for several years in the damp, impure 
air of the factories the health is undermined, 
the seed of incurable disease sown, hidden 
but no less deadly, and all hope of mental 
development is lost forever. The knowl- 
edge of another business is difficult to 
acquire, insidious weakness has sapped the 
strength, and no life, or animation, or desire 
even is left to undertake a new work, no 
matter how advantageous or remunerative it 
may be. Constant association of the sexes 
under the circumstances induces early mar- 
riages, and the weakened constitutions of the 
parents produce a weakly, nerveless race, 
whose destiny is fixed before they see the 
light of earth, — born slaves succeeding to 
the sad heritage of their parents, — a life of 
unceasing, ill-requited toil. 

All this the clear-headed, kind-hearted man 
laid before the master in eloquent language, 
inspired by his own genuine interest in the 
development and elevation of the laboring 


HOFRATH VON KALER. 


71 


classes. Mr. Breyer listened, apparently 
with courteous acquiescence, but replied 
with the assurance that the parents of the 
children were entirely to blame for the exist- 
ing state of affairs. He himself fully recog- 
nized the immense disadvantage it was in 
every way, but it was impossible for him to 
prevent it. It was the custom among this 
class of people, especially in manufacturing 
districts, and so long as. this custom so gener- 
ally prevailed, any interference on his part 
would be not only useless, but harmful in its 
effect upon the industries of the country, for 
there was not a sufficient number of full- 
grown men in the neighborhood to satisfy 
the demand, and as for bringing laborers 
from a distance, especially with wages as low 
as they now were, that was simply an impos- 
sibility. To raise the wages would be the 
ruin of the manufacturers. Business was so 
often interrupted that the men were many 
times retained only out of compassion for 
what their condition would be were they 
cut off absolutely penniless. 

To all these arguments there was no reply, 
and the Hofrath satisfied himself with a sor- 
rowful shrug of his shoulders for answer, 
and once more expressing to the manufac- 


72 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


turer his high appreciation of his most capa- 
ble and praiseworthy management of so 
large an interest, and assuring him that he 
considered him a suitable candidate for the 
honor which he so ardently desired. Hofrath 
von Kaler made his adieux, and, accompanied 
by the heartiest good wishes of Mr. Breyer 
(which had, however, his own personal ag- 
grandizement for their object), departed for 
the Residence. In his heart, Mr. Breyer did 
not cherish the most exalted opinion of the 
good Hofrath. His own ideas of the nature 
of his workmen, and indeed upon political 
economy in general, did not agree with those 
of the man who had so faithfully borne his 
testimony for them who so sorely needed 
some one to speak in their cause. The Hof- 
rath, he thought, possessed none of the attri- 
butes of a true business man ; his idea about 
women and children as operatives were 
quixotic and absurd in the extreme, the carry- 
ing out of which would result in a system of 
simple self-robbery. The motive power in all 
undertakings is “Profit,” and to make a 
profit in this business, when similar industries 
are springing up on all sides like mushrooms 
in a night, required that no point must be 
neglected, no means left unutilized. The 


HOFRA TH VON KALER. 


73 


principle, as well as a legitimate rate of inter- 
est upon his investment in the factory, must 
be preserved intact, the running expenses 
met by other supplies, which found their most 
ready source in the trifling sums paid to the 
women and children, and the regular and sys- 
tematic reduction of wages through all 
classes of the people employed. This was 
Mr. Breyer’s policy, which was to find its next 
development in a third reduction of wages, as 
soon as the men had struggled for a little 
while under their lately increased burdens. 
That they were powerless in his iron grasp 
he had just received convincing proof, and 
their yielding had but strengthened him in 
his tyrannical theories. 

But there was a power behind the throne 
of even this tyrant, whose restraining in- 
fluence curbed his arbitrary sway. This 
“power” was represented by young Julius 
Breyer, who lay negligently stretched upon a 
sofa in his luxurious apartment in his father’s 
house, and whose acquaintance We have 
abeady made. He was a thoughtless, care- 
less youth, with open heart and hand, whose 
interest in his father’s business was the slight- 
est, and who was supremely indifferent 
whether the house of “Sporner & Co.” was 


74 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 


bankrupt or not, or whether the quotations 
from the Bourse were high or low ; and 
who had spent several years in the capital, 
professedly pursuing a business education in 
a large establishment, with the understanding 
that he was to devote the knowledge so 
gained in his father’s factory at some future 
time. His duties did not weigh very heavily 
upon his young shoulders, but he certainly 
had acquired an extensive and exact famil- 
iarity of all the confectioners in the city, to 
say nothing of similar acquaintances with 
various wine and coffee houses, and his note- 
book yielded some startling data. How 
much his father paid for the prosecution of 
these branches of study is not exactly known, 
but it is certain, that one fine morning the 
postman brought a letter to his apartment, 
in which Mr. Julius Breyer was ordered to 
report himself promptly in his father’s ofiice 
to work, or, more properly speaking, not to 
work, and in which letter fatherly authority 
announced in most decisive manner the fact 
that his studies in the city had come to an 
end, and expressed his opinions of his asso- 
ciates in no measured or complimentary terms. 
The parting from these associates was cele- 
brated by a banquet, where, though no tears 


HOFRATH VON KALER, 


75 


were shed, the noble juice of the grape flowed 
in abundance, and after the effects were slept 
off, Julius took his place in a travelling car- 
riage amidst the benedictions of his friends, 
to proceed to the shades of a more retired 
life beneath his father’s roof. 

He left many tokens of remembrance in 
the city in the shape of certain small slips of 
paper, trifling documents in themselves, but 
calculated to give most serious trouble under 
some circumstances, and which are generally 
known as judgment notes. One of the 
largest of these fell due to-day, and the 
young man had been reminded of this fact 
by a letter from the holder. This letter lay 
open on the table before him and bore the 
name of an old acquaintance in the city, a 
well-known money-lender. It had roused 
him from bright dreams, all of which had 
centred round the form of the Hofbauer’s 
gentle daughter. The innocent beauty and 
unconscious grace of the young girl had 
made a deep impression upon the hitherto 
thoughtless youth; it was no child’s play 
with him, and when he thought of her it 
was with the fond enthusiasm of one who 
loved truly for the first time. He had but 
one ambition, which was, to brighten by her 


76 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


sweet presence the gloomy old home of his 
father, and so unite, by means of friendship 
and affection, the two extremes of the vil- 
lage. He did not ignore the impediments 
which the peculiarities of his father’s dispo- 
sition might lay in the way, but he was 
young, his spirits were elastic and rose 
above all unpleasant considerations. He 
hoped to win the love of the pure-hearted 
girl, and pledged himself, that should he be 
so happy as to accomplish this, and could he 
make Marie truly his own, to thoroughly re- 
form himself and become a “ solid house.” 

But the letter before him gave him great 
anxiety. In vain he paced up and down his 
room, in vain he rubbed his troubled brow, 
and in vain sought to see some plan for es- 
cape through the clouds of smoke, which he 
poured in such volumes from his Havana. 
But none appeared, unless, — to confess all 
to his father, with bowed head and humblest 
mien, spicing his confessions here and there 
with expressions of tenderness, and to wind 
up with such promises of amendment and 
solemn vows to forswear all extravagance in 
every shape and form forever. This he de- 
cided to do ; the decision cost something, 
and he first smoked his cigar to the end, re- 


ffOFRATII VON KALER, 


77 


read the letter before him, paced two or three 
times the full length of his room, murmuring 
a low monologue, then taking his destiny in 
liis hands and putting all forebodings behind 
liim, he proceeded to his father’s private 
office. 

Mr. Breyer seldom saw his son, except at 
the table, and there the conversation was 
principally carried on in monosyllables. The 
father could not forgive the lad, and he so 
totally lacked even a pretence of interest in 
the business that was so dear to him, and 
he looked with keen regret to the time, when 
this business, to the development of which 
he had given every energy and sacrificed his 
entire life, must sink into nothingness 
through the helpless, incapable hands of his 
only son, or pass to a stranger, who would 
reap the benefits of his lifetime’s work. This 
was the only real grief the boy had given his 
father up to the present time, and after long 
meditation over the subject, he determined to 
have a conversation with his son in which 
he would represent to him, with all the 
eloquence he could command, the folly of 
his career, to point out how wrong and un- 
satisfying the life he led must be, and he 
thought he would even go further, he would 


78 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


plead with him in terms of tenderness and 
love hitherto unknown in the intercourse be- 
tween father and son. Julius’ good angel 
must have surely guided him that morning, 
and lead him to his father’s door at the au- 
spicious moment, when these thoughts were 
passing through his anxious brain, for the 
tone with which he greeted him was kindly 
to tenderness. The unexpected friendliness 
from the lips of the cold business man was 
most encouraging, and when he inquired : — 
“ What is it, my son ? ” — 
the young man lost no time in launching into 
his confession. With rueful, penitent mien 
he told how he had been led astray by evil 
companions, and, fascinated by the manifold 
attractions of the Residence, he had found 
himself constantly in need of money, but that 
instead of trading upon his father’s well- 
known name and reputation, he had gone to 
a money-lender, and there put his own name 
to a note. The day of reckoning had come, 
and nothing remained for him but to pray 
for his father’s indulgence, to beg him to 
overlook the folly of his youth, and to satisfy 
the importunate demands incurred by his 
own wickedness. Further, he gave liis most 
solemn promise to avoid everything in fu- 


HOFRATH VON KALER. 


79 


ture that could in the most remote man- 
ner disturb his father, he would devote him- 
self faithfully to business to the last detail, 
and stand between this dear father and every 
annoyance, be it great or small. 

The role of prodigal son was tolerably well 
played, but it could not have deceived this 
worthy parent had he not been touched in 
his most vulnerable part, — his pocket- 
book, — but he accepted the advances of his 
son with a purpose and put a good face 
upon a very bad affair. He replied in most 
amiable tones to all the long story so plausi- 
bly told, and said : — 

“ I will relieve you from all anxiety about 
this bill, and will furthermore say not 
one word of reproach for what has happened; 
I make but one stipulation, and that is, that 
}^ou will devote yourself to the business, 
which in the end will be yours, for you know 
perfectly well that it is for your sake I have 
worked so hard to build it up. It has made 
me most unhappy to see you so indifferent 
to these vast and important interests which 
are so much more to you than to any one 
else in the world. Give me the happiness of 
seeing you fully aroused to the importance of 
this fact, and I will not be hard upon you in 


80 the angel of the village. 


any other way. I know that youth demands 
its relaxations, and these opportunities shall 
not he lacking for you, Julius. I will gladly 
forgive all that has happened at the Resi- 
dence, if you will only prove to me, that you 
have real love for and interest in the life of 
an active manufacturer ; only let me hope, 
that the work which I have begun, will, 
under the management of my son, attain to 
highest developments, and that at last our 
names may shine high in the annals of our 
countiy as that of men, who labored for and 
attained positions of highest honor.” 

The manufacturer had poured forth his 
plea with enthusiasm verging upon emotion, 
and Julius might well feel the contagion of 
his energy and earnestness. He realized for 
the first time that his father was capable of 
feeling, and that though the god of his life 
might not be the highest, that he worshipped 
him with no divided heart. He suppressed 
all sign of emotion, however, and gave his 
hand to his father with unaffected cordiality 
and said : — 

“Yes, I can raise our name to the rolls of 
honor, and I will do it ; I will be your pupil, 
your helper, your son ; you shall not again 
mourn over my indolence and inactivity.” 


HOFRATH VON KALER. 


81 


The father responded by pressing his son’s 
hand in his own, which had already cooled 
from its sudden warmth, and bidding him be 
at his desk betimes in the morning, left him. 
Julius returned to his room, rejoicing in his 
liberation from his financial troubles, and 
firmly resolved to stand fast to the promise 
given his father. His ambition was fixed to 
prove how clever and accomplished a busi- 
ness man he could become, did he but 
choose ; but behind all this another incentive 
may have lurked, beside the desire to win his 
father’s approbation, and the reward which 
he wished for at the goal was the attainment 
of the dearest wish and object of his heart. 


CHAPTER V. 


A SERMON. 


CHAPTER which many would gladly 



i\ pass by, doubtless, but tiresome as the 
title promises to be, let me beg that it may 
discourage no one from its perusal. It shall 
be shortened as much as possible, but to omit 
it altogether is an impossibility. To its en- 
couraging words the workmen of Hohenau 
listened patiently, and never rued the hearing, 
and though the preacher has long slept upon 
the hillside they remember but to bless his 
tender admonitions. I am anticipating, but 
am almost come in medias res. We will 
only linger now to give a little explanation 
of the why, the when and the wherefore of 
the sermon. 

Although the men had followed his sug- 
gestion and returned to their work, the Hof- 
bauer was by no means relieved from the 
burden of anxiety as to their welfare which 
had pressed so heavily upon him. It was 


A SERMON. 


83 


true, they had been allowed to go to work as 
usual, and at present there seemed no reason 
to fear further disturbance, yet he felt the 
precedent established by the despotic master 
was an alarming one, and he was convinced 
that it was but a question of time before 
another reduction of wages would be made. 
His head was full of anxious thought, his 
heart of compassion for the men so helpless 
in their great need. He considered their 
case in every way and could only come to 
the sad conclusion that it seemed an almost 
hopeless one. He felt that he must at least 
try to help them bear burdens that lay upon 
them with such leaden weight, but his simple 
understanding did not keep pace with the 
ready promptings of his humane heart, and 
old Ulrich might push back his old velvet 
cap, and scratch his anxious old head with 
what vigor he might, but no idea leaped 
forth ready to lead in his charitable project. 

At last he determined to go to the venerable 
pastor, a righteous man of great intelligence 
and wide experience, whose heart beat faith- 
ful and true to the interest of those intrusted 
to his care ; for years he had watched over 
the temporal as well as spiritual concerns of 
the people of Hohenau, and his heart and 


84 the angel of the village. 


hand were ready both to support and guide. 
To this worthy man Ulrich confided the 
story of his anxieties, and begged him to de- 
vise some means by which the thorny paths 
trodden by the poor men should be made 
smoother, some plan by which their exist- 
ence would be made more endurable. 

The good priest looked kindly into the 
face of the earnest pleader and said : — 

“ Hofbauer, you are a noble man, and have 
a heart worth all your Prinzenhof, but a good 
will in this case is not sufficient. Let the 
people come to you next Sunday afternoon, 
after service, and I will speak a few words 
to them as to my view of their affairs, 
which may in some way benefit them. If 
the Lord sends His blessing, and the plan 
succeeds, as I think it will, I shall indeed be 
happy, but if it fails, we will have done all 
that we could, and we will leave it to One 
above, who will order it all aright in His 
own infinite wisdom.” 

With this answer the peasant had to be 
content and leave the parsonage ; but as he 
went slowly down the village street, shook his 
grey head every now and then sorrowfully, 
for he felt that the priest might have con- 
fided his views more fully to him when he 


A SERMOA^. 


86 


had so frankly confided his own thoughts 
and feelings upon the subject to him. For a 
moment he felt a little nettled that he had 
not been met with equal candor, but better 
counsel came then and he acknowledged that 
the priest had agreed with him in all the 
highest and best considerations, and he deter- 
mined to overlook everything else in consider- 
ation of this fact, joining with him in whatever 
measures he might undertake, with all the 
capability and energy his brain could devise 
and his devoted heart support. 

On Sunday afternoon, immediately after 
the close of the second service at the church, 
almost all the men from the factory assem- 
bled in the large living room at the Prinzen- 
hof, not one of them in the least knowing 
what to expect. They were, therefore, the 
more surprised when their revered pastor 
appeared, and taking his seat at the lower 
end of the long oak table, raised his little 
velvet cap from the head grown gray in the 
service of the Most High, arose, and in the 
calm, kind voice they knew and loved so 
well, said : — 

“ My beloved ! I have already spoken to 
you to-day in God’s holy temple, but I wish 
to say yet a few more words to you. This 


86 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

morning I told you of your duty to your 
heavenly Master, this afternoon I would 
speak to you of your duty to your master on 
earth, and, therefore, what I have to say, con- 
cerns especially the laboring element in this 
beloved community. You have, in a very 
short time, lived through two anxious expe- 
riences. You have seen your wages, already 
small, made still smaller, and the fact has 
been forcibly impressed upon you that the 
master stands above the servant, the giver of 
work above the workman, and that he is able 
to rule you according to his own will. When 
he has forgotten the commandment of the 
Lord, His golden words, ‘ Love thy neighbor 
as thyself,’ then you have learned that your 
opposition to him is a fruitless, vain struggle ; 
and here again speaks another statute of our 
blessed religion, ‘Servants, obey your mas- 
ters.’ You are, thanks to the good influence 
of our wise magistrate, once more in the right 
path, the path of work, which is your path of 
duty, steep and painful as it is. Unhappily, 
you cannot hide from yourselves that your 
hardest times are not yet past, that another 
reduction of wages will in all probability be 
made, that unexpected stagnation of business 
may make the dismissal of at least a part of 


A SERMON. 


87 


the men necessary, sickness may break out in 
your midst, and then you would indeed be 
helpless. All this has your faithful friend, 
the man in whose house we are to-day assem- 
bled, anticipated. He has laid all his fears 
before me, and asked my advice. When he 
came to me, I could not give him a definite 
answer as to my plan for your assistance in 
such times, but I asked him to invite you all 
here to-day, and I prayed God that He would 
inspire me with a message for you which 
would light you on your dark way. The 
prayer has been answered, I think, for the 
plan that has suggested itself to me seems an 
excellent one, and eminently well-suited to 
help and protect you in times of need that 
may come upon you, times in which you 
would require other aids than those you can 
now command. It will require all your 
good will, all your moral strength and 
brotherly union. I will now lay my ideas 
before you as briefly as possible, giving you 
all the details and suggestions as to how they 
should be worked out, and I hope that God’s 
blessing will insure good results. 

“ This proposition is grounded on the same 
plan as that of which I spoke to you some 
time ago, the same that is the foundation of 


88 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


the ‘unions’ which are striking such deep 
roots in our day throughout all the land, 
both in town and country, and which, prop- 
erly conceived and carried out must be of the 
greatest benefit to all concerned in them. I 
do not interest myself in this for individual 
profit — this idea is far from me — but I submit 
it to you that all may join together in what I 
believe will be a most advantageous compact. 
We have unions throughout the length and 
breadth of the land, intellectual, professional, 
social, each under different names, and each 
with a definite aim; and all find sufficient 
support upon which to live, if vigorous means 
are used, and intelligent as well as honest 
effort direct their action. It is, indeed, some- 
thing of a problem to work out in the limits 
of a community like this ; for several reasons, 
therefore, we must the more put our trust in 
God. And looking to Him, let us proceed 
(if my plan meets your approbation), to the 
first steps necessary for carrying out my 
ideas. In the first place, each man among 
you must arouse himself to recognize the in- 
disputable fact that it is his first duty to pro- 
vide himself with means of support and pro- 
tection against the times of sickness and the 
catastrophes which are sure to fall in the 


A SERMON. 


89 


lives of all. The next step is to investigate 
the different unions, and to select the consti- 
tution of that one best adapted to meet the 
needs of this especial community. And most 
important of all is, that we must not start 
with an empty treasury. To lay a solid 
foundation here, we must appeal to our more 
prosperous neighbors, and I am convinced 
that we shall not appeal in vain. That no 
one may reproach me, I not only speak for 
this undertaking, I give you more tangible 
proof of my interest in its furtherance, and 
subscribe towards it five hundred florins as 
my own individual offering for the formation 
of a fund.” 

A murmur of surprise ran through the 
ranks of the workmen, and the signs of emo- 
tion displayed by all present interrupted the 
speaker. 

“ I contribute the same amount,” were the 
next words heard in the momentarily silent 
room, spoken in the strong, deep voice of the 
good old Hofbauer. 

“ Now, God bless the beginning ! ” resumed 
the venerable speaker, “the corner-stone is 
laid for the building; farther we must build 
ourselves. Your wages are small it is true, 
but now the absolute obligation is laid upon 


90 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 


you to save a little from them, though it may 
be the merest trifle. Can you — will you — 
do this? You are accustomed to spend part 
of every Sunday afternoon at the “ Star,” and 
of course a portion of your wages is devoted 
to paying for your entertainment there ; have 
you the moral courage to forswear this habit? 
I have a confidence in the children of my 
parish to which I will adhere with all my 
soul, and I know that you can and will do 
this. You know how the Sunday afternoons 
can be far better spent. The whole week you 
are away from your families and the only after- 
noon that you can spend with them is passed 
in a far different way. And yet your chil- 
dren have a right to you. Stay with them. 
Accustom yourselves in this leisure time to 
read a good book, which I will gladly lend 
you, and you will soon find that you are 
spared many a bitter repentant hour, many a 
false word that are too often the conse- 
quences of a visit to the inn, and you will 
find that spiritual as well as material benefits 
will be the result of your new mode of life ; 
and you will not be deprived of all enjoyment 
either. You know that on holidays and on 
special occasions you can still drink your 
beer and enjoy yourselves, only restrain your- 


A SERMON. 


91 


selves and set the proper limits to your 
expenditures. Think, it will not only re- 
dound to your own advantage, this wise econ- 
omy, but your children will reap the benefit 
as well. They will not be called to labor 
with you, these tender plants who now wither 
and die in the dark, unhealthy halls of the 
factory, for a happier, better future waits 
them, and to you is granted the holy right to 
provide it for them. Every week or month 
devote a certain portion of your wages to the 
fund, a little from each one of you will not 
be felt by the giver, and will be the seeds of 
a plentiful harvest for him. We will reserve 
a small sum, the rest will be laid away and 
the interest devoted to the help of the sick or 
those unable to work from other causes. He 
who is unhappily so situated, will have the 
blessed consciousness that he is not forsaken, 
and will know where to turn for help. Each 
week we will devote to such cases an amount 
which will always be ready for the most un- 
expected call. I think I read acquiescence 
with all that I have said in the faces of those 
before me. Go fresh to the work with the 
blessing of God upon it and upon you ; have 
confidence in Him and in yourselves and you 
will succeed. Your first action must be the 


92 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


selection of some man of known probity and 
honor to act as treasurer, to watch carefully 
over all payments and expenditures, and who 
is able not only to give advice when it is 
needed, but to look over .the accounts of the 
cashier, and attend generally to the business 
of the union. You will all be satisfied, I am 
sure, when I nominate for this position the 
honored magistrate of the parish, who is too 
thoroughly imbued with truest charity to 
push aside the burden we would impose 
upon him.” 

Loud cries of delighted assent greeted the 
speaker at the close of this plain common- 
sense address ; all promised to unite them- 
selves with the proposed society, and all felt 
sure that the agreement entered into would 
be infinitely to their advantage. That even- 
ing the preliminary arrangements were made, 
the Hofbauer formally elected president, four 
auditors selected to assist him, among whom 
were the pastor and John Kleemann. The 
sanction of the government was obtained 
with no difficulty. 


CHAPTER VI. 


DE. FEIGEL. 



HE Union was thoroughly organized, 


1 aided by the contributions of the well- 
to-do farmers in the neighborhood, who 
gladly joined with their beloved pastor in his 
plan for ameliorating the condition of the 
poor workmen. Dr. Feigel, however, had 
watched the development of the enterprise 
with secret discontent, not only because he 
lost a certain influence with the men, but 
also because his ingenious brain failed in its 
attempt to find some fault with it. It was a 
grievous disappointment to the clever, crafty 
little demagogue, for he aspired to be pre- 
eminently the friend of these people and had 
his own plans and ideas as to how they 
should be helped ; plans and ideas, which it 
is not necessary to say were widely different 
from those originated by the noble old clergy- 
man and his faithful coadjutor, Ulrich, the 
Hofbauer. But he meant to use the people 


94 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 


as a means to accomplish his own ends, for 
his mind seemed capable of holding but one 
idea now, and that was to ruin the manufac- 
turer whose cool indifference irritated him to 
madness, and his son, whose nonchalant 
scorn seemed to his fevered, foolish imagina- 
tion a constantly reiterated insult. As a 
snake stealthily waiting and watching for the 
moment in which to dart upon his unsuspect- 
ing prey, so he waited for the time when he 
could gather his forces and deal his deadly 
blow. His idea was to induce the men to 
join with him, and prayed — if Dr. Feigel 
ever prayed — that he might have the oppor- 
tunity to make the Hofbauer suffer for hav- 
ing dared to dictate to him, as well as to 
prove to the proud manufacturer that he was 
not a creature upon whom they could look 
down with contemptuous pride. And the 
opportunity came. 

At the factory everything had resumed its 
accustomed aspect; the grey smoke poured 
in clouds out of the blackened chimneys, the 
busy hum of flying looms filled the work- 
rooms as usual, and no change was apparent 
except one, and that was, the childish figures 
that had formerly excited the compassion of 
all who saw them, were no longer to be seen. 


DR. FEIGEL. 


95 


their places being filled by youths or men of 
mature growth. This was one of the first 
blessings for wliich they had to thank the 
good pastor and his active interest in their 
affairs. And in the counting-room, upon a 
high office stool sat Julius, so absorbed in his 
accounts that it was hard to think of liim as 
ever having been occupied by any thought 
but that of business, and as though the wel- 
fare of the universe depended upon the ex- 
actitude of his calculations. The anxious 
countenance of his father relaxed as his eyes 
rested upon his son in his new r61e, and in 
spirit he might well have asked his pardon 
that but a short time previous to this he had 
considered him not only thoughtless, but in- 
capable. But he refrained from giving the 
young man one word of praise or expressing 
by the slightest sign his appreciation of his 
changed demeanor ; instead of this, he 
avoided meeting Julius’s eye, who, if by 
chance he looked up from his accounts and 
turned to his father’s desk, met always there 
the same impenetrable look to which he was 
accustomed upon his father’s face. 

Thus three months slipped away. It was 
Saturday, — pay-day again, — and again the 
workmen assembled in the smoke-darkened 


96 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


room, the tick of the old clock sounded mo- 
notonously as ever from behind the door, and 
beside the great oak table in his old arm-chair 
sat, according to his custom, the tall, spare 
figure of the master, tapping carelessly with 
his slender, jewelled fingers his money-box, 
upon which the eyes of so many of the poor 
workmen lingered with covetous, or at least, 
longing gaze. The pale blue eyes wandered 
with their old-time indifference over the 
groups of men, and it was with the hard voice 
all knew so well that the master said : — 

“ There has been so great a falling off in 
my business that I am compelled to discharge 
a number of my workmen, or else, to equalize 
this, to make a decided reduction in the 
wages of all. Your fraternal feelings and 
your public spirit,” here, a slight, satirical 
smile was perceptible for a moment on the 
hard face, “leads me to suppose you would 
prefer the latter course, so that no one of you 
will be called upon to lament over his own 
individual loss. Further, I wish to say, that 
should the same insubordination crop out as 
it did three months ago, you will find that I 
am not the sort of a man to be played with, 
and that I will not again yield to your 
prayers, as I was weak enough to do then.” 


DR. FEIGEL. 


9T 


Even as he spoke a low murmur was heard 
in the room, which rose and swelled to such a 
volume that it sounded like the roar of dis- 
tant thunder, loud voices clashed and hard 
hands clenched in angry menace, and the 
looks cast upon the manufacturer were so 
dark and threatening that the usual invulner- 
able self-possession of the man seemed to 
desert him. But recovering himself and 
laying his hand upon his money-box, he 
said : — 

“ Be silent ! I will pay you your full 
wages to-day. They will be less in future, 
and once for all, I will have no opposition.” 

A deep silence fell upon the men; they 
suppressed all signs of their wrath, but their 
hearts beat wildly with helpless, impotent 
rage, and many a hand that closed upon its 
pitiful pay would gladly have vented its rage 
upon the giver, but they silently withdrew 
and the heavy door was more than once 
closed with such a resounding clang that the 
windows rattled and the old clock shivered 
and shook, startled out of its peaceful mono- 
tone by the unusual proceedings. 

Before the great gates in the court-yard of 
the factory the men stood in larger and 
smaller groups, and the angry gesticulations 


98 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


and loud, angry protestations showed to what 
a pitch of excitement they had been wrought. 
And whence came the odd little figure that 
hurried busily from group to group, steadily 
pouring oil upon the already leaping flames ? 
It was Dr. Feigel, who had appeared as sud- 
denly as if he had sprung out of the ground, 
whispering to all, encouraging, inciting with 
a zeal and energy that devoted to a better 
cause would have been commendable in the 
highest degree. At last the people separated, 
each carrying to his home a heart heavy with 
grief and hatred and outraged feeling. And 
many a sleepless eye watched that weary 
night through in anxious foreboding for the 
morrow, bereft of all the power of forgetful- 
ness in slumber’s sweet fold, wliilst the man 
whose arbitrary word had called this mis- 
erable condition of affairs into existence, 
slept undisturbed by prick of conscience, or 
dread premonition of the direful consequences 
of his action. 

But Dr. Feigel, with heroic resolution 
strong in his breast, hastened through the 
village to the Prinzenhof. He felt that the 
bell had sounded which rang in his hour of 
freedom. Should he allow it to pass un- 
noticed, whilst he remained in bondage at 


DR. FEIGEL. 


99 


the mercy of the insolent old peasant, who 
again would surely reprove him for his part 
in the hour of wild ' excitement which had 
raged around the factory walls ? He would 
prove that he was actuated hy honest convic- 
tion by the sacrifice which he would make. 
Naturally, being an inmate of the Hofbauer’s 
household, he was constantly thrown in con- 
tact with the honest, straightforward old 
man, and this association had become daily 
more and more irksome to him. He deter- 
mined to free himself from this, and at any 
rate, he hoped that, entirely untrammelled by 
the cares of “ office ” and relieved of all obliga- 
tion to his superior officer, to carry out his 
crafty, nefarious plans with a freedom impos- 
sible to attain under his former circum- 
stances. 

With proud assumption he presented him- 
self before the Hofbauer, who was in the 
court-yard, busily engaged in unharnessing 
his great, glossy, black horses, and with high- 
sounding phrase and supercilious air, an- 
nounced that “he had come to resign the 
office of town clerk, which he had been so 
fortunate to have been able to hold for some 
time.” 

Ulrich listened quietly till he had finished 


100 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


all he had to say, and then calmly removing 
his pipe from between his lips, said : — 

“ You are indeed far too learned and ac- 
complished a person to hold so trifling an of- 
fice as this ; but it has been the means of 
giving you a good, regular income upon 
which you have supported yourself pretty 
comfortably, and I only hope that you may 
not regret your resignation of it when it is 
too late. And let me tell you something 
else, which is, the path you have chosen is 
an uncertain one and mil surely lead you 
to a sad end.” 

“ That is my affair, not yours,” replied the 
little man, and tossing his head he thrust his 
hands defiantly in his pockets and proceeded 
directly to the inn for his daily potation. 

The Hofbauer looked after him with a 
smile, half-pitiful, half-amused, and then con- 
tentedly led his horses to their stalls. The 
next day — Sunday — saw the large room at 
the “ Star ” once more filled with guests as it 
had not been for many a day. Smoke lay 
in thick clouds on everything, and the hot 
air rolled in volumes through the door when 
it was opened to admit a fresh visitor. It 
was indeed a day when the hot stove was not 
to be despised, for without the snow-flakes 


DR. FEIGEL. 


101 


were falling thick and fast, and the wind 
swept cold and cutting, over the white gar- 
dens and roofs. Eagerly the busy host him- 
self hastened to attend to the wants of his 
long absent guests, greeting them with such 
a torrent of friendly words that his little wife 
stood by with open eyes and mouth, filled 
with astonishment at the phenomenon of her 
husband's changed deportment, until aroused 
by a very telling, though unobserved poke in 
her ribs, which reminded her, that all rules 
had their exceptions and that her husband 
was subject to this law as well as other peo- 
ple, she comforted herself with this reflection 
and proceeded to fill her place as hostess. 
The men were in a state of wildest excite- 
ment, but had no excuse for finding fault 
with their beer, for far back in the darkest 
corner of the room sat a judge, the like of 
which Hohenau could not boast, and he had 
set his mug down, after draining its contents 
to the dregs, with expressions of approbation 
not to be misunderstood. And if he were 
satisfied, who would presume to find fault? 
We know the little round figure right well, 
whose shining eyes beam with such eager 
interest through the enormous spectacles 
upon the scene before him, for the man in the 


102 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 


grey coat is Dr. Feigel, the very soul of mu- 
tiny, who, since yesterday, had regained his 
unhappy influence over the men. As in for- 
mer times, when he first addressed the poor, 
easily led people, he now waited for the fa- 
vorable moment in which he could pour 
forth his philippics against their oppressor 
and thrust his own ideas upon them as to the 
attitude they should assume and action to 
be undertaken. The waves of excitement 
rose higher and higher, but the little man sat 
with stoical mien and half closed eyes, appar- 
ently but half conscious of what was going 
on about him. The men who occupied the 
table with him poured forth hot invective 
against their heartless employer, and his un- 
warrantable treatment of them ; the tables 
rattled beneath their angry . fists, and the 
glasses and jugs clattered and jingled so vio- 
lently that the doctor carefully took occasion 
to hold his own securely in his hand. 

“ Don’t be so wild, men,” he said at last. 
“ Scolding will not help you any. But then, 
what will help you? You will not be ad- 
vised. You do not deserve anything better 
than you have got, you deserve to be trodden 
upon. I have told you often enough how it 
would all turn out, but you would not hear, 
and you must suffer the penalty.” 


DR. FEIGEL. 


103 


Dr. Feigel had intentionally gradually 
raised his voice so that those who sat at the 
next table could not help hearing all he said. 

“You mean well by us.” 

“ Tell us what to do, doctor.” 

“You know all about the world and can 
advise us.” 

“ Dr. Feigel shall speak ! ” 

These and similar cries were heard from all 
parts of the room, and the doctor was much 
pleased by the marks of appreciation and rec- 
ognition. He rose behind his table and 
stretching his little figure to its fullest height, 
and raising both arms high above his head, 
began : — 

“ You believe at last, that I am your friend. 
Why did you not follow my advice not to re- 
turn to your work till the rich man himself 
came for you? Until he, not you, yielded. 
Only two or three days more and all would 
have turned out as I said it would. Remem- 
ber how quickly he took you back ; did he 
refuse you when you came to him again for 
work ? Or did he let you go when it suited 
his convenience to keep you ? Must I say to 
you again, you are more necessary to him 
than he is to you. Once more resolve to act 
as I advise you, and this time do not waver; 


104 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


stand fast, no matter how hard it is, and he 
must yield. Make some sacrifices ; if need 
be, starve rather than turn back in the good 
work. But, you need not starve. Every- 
thing is much easier now, for you have a 
fund in the treasury of your union, upon 
which you can fall back, and this will keep 
you till the tyrant has yielded and you are 
once more reinstated in your rights and re- 
ceiving your righteous reward. ‘ Courage 
and perseverance ’ must be your watchword ; 
show that you are men ; do not cringe and 
kneel to the man who but watches his oppor- 
tunity to put his foot upon your necks.” 

“ At your old tricks again, stirring up 
the spirit of disorder and discontent.” The 
words spoken in deep tones that vibrated 
with emotion, resounded through the room, 
and startled at the occupants, whose eyes 
turned quickly to the door where stood the 
powerful figure of the Hofbauer. After an 
instant’s pause he strode through the clinging 
clouds of smoke to the table by which Dr. 
Feigel stood, hurling his poisonous arrows at 
his eagerly listening audience. 

“ As magistrate of the community, I forbid 
you inciting the people to disturbance.” 

The little man straightened himself, his 


DR. FEIGEL. 


105 


twinkling eyes casting fiery gleams of anger 
at the towering form opposed to him, and 
said : — 

“ First, I am a doctor^ and secondly, you 
being magistrate of Hohenau is not of the 
slightest importance to me ; I am a citizen of 
the world, and have nothing to do with the 
officers of this community, since I have re- 
signed the office of town-clerk.” 

“So long as you remain in this district, and 
so long as I have authority here, I know ex- 
actly how I am authorized to treat you. But 
men, I turn to you now, and beg you not to 
hear or be influenced by the false representa- 
tions of this man. Bemember the words of 
our pastor, think of the hour that you lis- 
tened to him, and guided by his wise and 
loving advice you entered into what has been 
a most blessed union for you.” 

“ All right ! Submit yourselves to be 
trodden upon and oppressed, bear it all with 
Christian meekness and forbearance, go back 
to your work at these beggarly rates, and in 
fourteen days have them made still more beg- 
garly ! You will get what you deserve.” 

“ The doctor is right, — we will not be 
trodden down, — the wages must be raised,” 
the men roared on all sides in excited voices. 


106 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

Dr. Feigel laughed scornfully and turned tri- 
umphantly to the Hofbauer, who stood 
calmly waiting for the storm to subside. 
When a lull came he proceeded : — 

“ If any one of you depends upon the 
union for help in case of a strike among 
yourselves, I wish to warn you, as legally 
elected president of that society, that he will 
be very much disappointed, for there will be 
no money forthcoming to encourage such a 
proceeding.” 

Loud screams interrupted him, but as im- 
movable as the rock against which the storm- 
tossed sea faints and dies, stood the manly 
figure, and the full voice sounded but the 
more commanding through the wild confu- 
sion : “ for the union was formed for the help 
of the sick and those unable to work, not for 
those who voluntarily withdraw themselves 
from it.” 

“We paid the money, we have a right to 
it.” 

“You are all familiar with the constitution 
of the union, and you all know that a labor 
strike is not mentioned in it. Any one can 
withdraw and is heartily welcome to the 
amount he has contributed. As for you, 
Feigel, or. Dr. Feigel, I advise you in future 


DR. FEIGEL. 


107 


to devote your energies and your eloquence 
to a better cause, or else I will exert my au- 
thority and see that you speedily depart from 
Hohenau to which according to your own 
representations, you no longer belong.” 

Quietly as he came, and with measured 
steps and unshaken mien, Ulrich left the inn 
and bent his steps towards the parsonage, 
where he hoped to find his noble old friend 
who had before given him such efficient aid, 
and discuss with him the possibility of devis- 
ing some means by which this insurrection 
could be quelled. The good man, in spite of 
his assumed composure, was sadly troubled 
and did not feel the snow flakes as they fell 
upon his hot face or the wind as it lifted liis 
grey locks ; he could think of nothing but 
the poor people who surrounded him, and the 
thought of their misery gnawed at his heart 
like a worm ; he saw in the future, the fright- 
ful days that awaited them, in which woe 
and despair would prevail; and the grim 
figures of Want and Death would sweep over 
the destitute cottages of Hohenau ; and yet 
the people would have it so ! He met John 
Kleemann, who acknowledged his kind greet- 
ing with a sorrowful face. Here, he thought, 
was one who would not hearken to the voice 


108 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


of the tempter, one in whom he could trust, 
and he at once invited him to join in the pro- 
posed conference. 

At the “ Star,” the sounds of angry discon- 
tent grew louder and louder, and Dr. Feigel 
continued to fan the flames by a repetition of 
his old arguments, and to assail the character 
of the Hofbauer with calumny and abuse, al- 
though in his heart he knew he was power- 
less to hurt the exalted character of the good 
man. He had completely won the men to 
his views ; they would leave the union and 
see pale want at their doors, and submit them- 
selves and wives and children to the pangs of 
starvation, before they would again work for 
the “ beggarly ” wages given them. In spite 
of their promise to their pastor, in spite of 
the example set them by John Kleemann and 
a few of the other workmen who were 
equally reasonable, they determined to with- 
draw from the union, at the same time taking 
their contribution from the treasury. The 
fund was, in fact, by this time sadly lessened 
on account of the smaller number of mem- 
bers, and the lowered wages of course, neces- 
sitated a relative reduction in their contribu- 
tions, but after all the union flourished. The 
members held the more closely together, and 


DR. FEIGEL. 


109 


found that they could at least live and 
support their families upon their lessened 
wages, though strictest economy was neces- 
sary so to do. 


CHAPTER VII. 


THE LAST MASQUERADE. 

HE position assumed by the men pro- 



i duced results equally unexpected by 
them and by Dr. Feigel. The Monday fol- 
lowing the day just described, and upon which 
the animated scene had been enacted in the 
parlor of the inn, Mr. Breyer found his fac- 
tory again almost deserted by the workmen ; 
but he again maintained his usual air of 
stolid composure, and was, apparently, per- 
fectly satisfied. In a few days, however, the 
w^onted activity was observed to prevail in 
and about the establishment, for the master 
had brought operatives from distant districts, 
who took the places of the malcontents and 
to whom he paid wages no higher than that 
announced as the rate the previous Saturday, 
but had given them the free use of the 
tumble-down old houses already mentioned 
as situated immediately around the factory. 


THE LAST MASQUERADE. Ill 


But they were put in order by the new occu- 
pants and soon became cheerful objects, 
instead of the miserable shanties of former 
times. The new men became members of 
the Workmen’s Union, which with its fresh 
support, grew apace. The idle men looked 
askance at these signs of the times and were 
much surprised and chagrined that their 
action had not borne more ruinous conse- 
quences upon the manufacturer, as Dr. 
Feigel, upon whose representations they had 
so thoughtlessly and implicitly relied, had 
assured them would be the case. The dis- 
content vented itself upon the doctor, who 
had found a retreat in a little back room of 
the “ Star,” where he lived as best he might, 
looking forward to a happiet time. He did 
not long for the flesh-pots of the Prinzenhof, 
for he was now his own master and felt 
happy in spite of his growling stomach, 
though sometimes his restless spirit girded 
against the restraints of his condition and he 
grew impatient over his thwarted plans. 
But he was not a man to be easily intim- 
idated and he still hoped for the opportunity 
to come for him to finish his work. 

And now the time for the carnival had 
arrived, — Masquerade Sunday. The “ Star ” 


112 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

was profusely hung with green garlands, and 
the guests were pouring in from every 
quarter. It was a gala-day for the little, 
toppling old house ; for here the people 
assembled annually to celebrate the day in 
joyous companies, and from whence also the 
gallant youths frequently took home swollen 
noses and blackened eyes as souvenirs of 
their prowess in shedding their blood, albeit 
not in the service of their country. Around 
the walls of the large room were placed long 
wooden benches, scoured till they shone in 
their whiteness, whilst all about the room 
were hung large wreaths made of the dark 
fir branches, and paper banners, the insignia 
of the different principalities. Near the mu- 
sician’s stand, ta’bles were placed for the con- 
venience of the older people, who here took 
their beer and enjoyed the pleasure of seeing 
the young people’s enjoyment, and the more 
tempered happiness of retrospection, looking 
back to the time when they too had whirled 
in the giddy d.ance. Sometimes the spirit of 
youth would enter the heart of one of these 
gay old fellows and he would be tempted on 
the floor to try the suppleness of his old legs, 
but the attempt was usually soon given up 
and he would gladly retreat to the ranks of 
his contemporaries. 


THE LAST MASQUERADE. 


113 


It was a beautiful day. The February 
sunshine lay warm and golden upon the 
snowy roofs of Hohenau, the icy crystals re- 
flecting the shining, glittering rays in myriad 
colors, the long icicles, moved by the warm 
influence of the sun’s rays, weeping them- 
selves away in a torrent of tears. At the inn, 
the host, in spotless white apron and new vel- 
vet cap, laughed as blithely as the beautiful 
sun, and in view of the splendid receipts he 
hoped for, was moved to a gentle compassion 
for Dr. Feigel, who was spending this bright 
day in the banishment of his little back-room, 
which was but little better than a mouse-hole, 
and sent him a glass of beer with which the 
doctor celebrated quietly and unostenta- 
tiously his carnival Sunday. 

Gradually the room began to fill. Young 
men and maidens in holiday array, old men 
with the inevitable pipe between their teeth, 
appeared, and many a pale face was seen 
whose owner for fourteen days had had 
neither work nor wages, and had come here 
hoping to forget in the gay scene the anxious 
reality of their lives. Then was heard the 
warning, inspiriting blasts of the musicians, 
electrifying both the ears and the feet of the 
hearers. The older people mthdrew them- 


114 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

selves still further behind their tables, not 
only to give more room to the dancers, but 
that they might the better perform their parts 
as on-lookers and critics, but soon forgot to 
be critical in their hearty enjoyment of the 
merry scene as they heartily applauded the 
gay dancers with laughter and cheers. It 
was a gay and happy scene ; the fresh, rosy 
faces, the sparkling eyes, the straight, strong 
figures of the men, the graceful girls, all 
dressed in the simple costume of their coun- 
try and all animated by the joyous, over-flow- 
ing spirit of youth, sweeping around in 
perfect self-forgetfulness, untrammelled by 
restraint and conventionality. 

The Hofbauer and his daughter at last ap- 
peared. Ulrich wore a dark blue coat of fine 
cloth, cut rather long, black leather breeches, 
his boots brilliantly polished, and his vest of 
dark material, ornamented with the usual 
double rows of enormous buttons ; a huge 
neckerchief swathed his throat in its 
mighty folds, over which turned a large 
stiffly-starched white linen collar ; this made 
up a perfect picture of a prosperous man of 
the good old time. Marie entered the hall 
at his side. The beautiful girl was looking 
her best to-night. The bright, sweet face 


THE LAST MASQUERADE. 115 

was framed in thick braids of blond hair, 
her slender waist encased in a bodice of dark 
blue velvet, which contrasted well with the 
fine white shirt, which was gathered in a 
dainty frill around her slender throat. The 
skirt was of paler blue, which scarcely 
reached her ankles and did not conceal the 
tiny feet in their pretty black shoes with 
their gay bows of ribbon. “The village- 
angel ! ” It scarce seemed a fitting place for 
the refined, retiring girl, and she clung close 
to her father’s hand, as he led her through 
the crowd which gladly opened to welcome 
them. How quickly the glances of the 
young men followed them, how happy each 
one felt who dared to pass his arm around 
her waist, or take her hand to lead her to the 
dance. How proud was he whom she ac- 
cepted as her partner, and how careful he was 
of her, indulging in none of the boisterous 
shouts or lively “ pigeon- wings ” in which 
their excitement usually found vent at these 
gay times. Henry, too, was there, of course, 
looking unusually handsome in his well-fitting 
peasant’s dress. His blue eyes sparkled, and 
his cheeks flushed when, with Marie in his 
arms, they divided the crowds, the best 
dancers in the room. They found them- 


116 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

selves often together, and if the elderly on- 
lookers beneath the music-stand, wrapped in 
misty clouds like the Olympian gods of old, 
joined the fortunes as well as the names of 
the gay, handsome young pair together, it 
was not much to be wondered at. 

There was another figure present which 
seemed rather out of place in this jovial 
scene, that of Julius Breyer. He was 
dressed in the most modish style, in a suit of 
dark material cut in the latest fashion, his 
small hands glittering with rings, and a dia- 
mond of such size and brilliancy sparkling 
upon his shirt-bosom that even in this 
brightly-lighted room it emitted rays of won- 
drous light. No one took very much notice 
of him except the workmen, who, though 
they did not belong in his especial “ circle,” 
met him often enough, and never without 
some evidence of the hatred which burned in 
their hearts for him, a hatred which they did 
not attempt to disguise. His eyes sought 
but one figure, that of the Hofbauer’s lovely 
daughter, who even at that moment was 
borne past him in Henry’s arms to the sweet 
inspiration of one of Strauss’ most lovely 
waltzes. Julius stood as if transfixed by the 
vision of beauty, and watched them in silent 


THE LAST MASQUERADE. 117 

wrath, amazed that a simple peasant, — whom 
even he had to acknowledge was a fine fel- 
low, — could dare to put his arm around one 
whom he, Julius Breyer, honored with his 
love. The dance was ended, the men had 
led their fair partners to their seats, where 
they rested, chatting with each other or the 
men who lingered by them, when Julius 
made his way through the crowd and stood 
close by Marie, who, not having observed 
him before, was much startled by his unex- 
pected appearance and abrupt, unusual style 
of address. 

“ Marie, you are most lovely to-night.” 

He, this gay man of the world who had so 
often whispered soft, idle words into the lis- 
tening ears of fine city ladies, looking the 
while boldly into their eyes, stood now 
trembling and confused before the simple 
village girl. He could find no words to ex- 
press the feelings that were sweeping so tem- 
pestuously through his heart. The modest 
girl blushed and the white lids hid the shy 
eyes. 

“ Marie, I do not wish to distress you ; par- 
don me if I have done so,” and in his excite- 
ment he caught her hand in his, but it 
was quickly withdrawn from his eager clasp. 


118 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


“ Forgive me for my rudeness the other 
day. I have repented of it deeply, and I 
did not mean to hurt you. Give me this 
dance, I beg, as a sign of your forgiveness,” 
“I will willingly forgive you, and will 
dance with you with pleasure,” answered the 
young girl, raising her clear eyes and looking 
him frankly in the face, “but you must 
understand that you are never to speak to me 
again as you did upon that occasion.” 

Julius made no reply, but quickly placing 
his arm around her waist as the music began, 
he led her into the middle of the floor. The 
old gossips made a note of this also, and took 
their pipes from their mouths in fresh delib- 
eration ; they were a handsome couple, but 
not so much approved as the first. Henry 
stood at a distance, his red lips firmly set, 
and his eyes following them with an expres- 
sion of mingled grief and anger. How 
closely the hated Breyer held her, how softly 
he whispered into the ear so close to his lips. 
He fancied all eyes were upon them, and he 
watched them with fiercest pangs of jealousy. 

“ What is the name of that pretty fellow 
with whom you were dancing, the man with 
blue eyes and blond hair?” 

“ Henry Kleemann,” she answeied softly. 


THE LAST MASQUERADE. 


119 


“ Kleemann, — the son of one of the work- 
men?” She nodded, and he gently and 
gradually led her further and further from 
the rest of the crowd, and when they were 
out of hearing of the others he whispered 
softly in caressing tones : — 

“ Marie, I can no longer conceal my feel- 
ings from you, I can no longer play the hypo- 
crite ; I must tell you that I love you, that 
you are my star ; that you alone make my 
life in Hohenau endurable, for it is for your 
sake alone that I stay here and devote my- 
self as I do to the business that is so hateful 
to me.” 

Mr. von Breyer, I have already implored 
you not to speak to me in this way, for, 
indeed, I cannot respond to your feelings.” 

“ You mean you will not, or tell me, is it 
that your heart is no longer free? Only 
hear me, I lay all, all at your dear feet, my 
heart, all that I own, all that I ever hope to 
own, only be mine, my flower, my angel.” 

Marie slipped from his encircling arm, and 
quickly threading her way through the crowd 
of dancers, joined a friend in whose society 
she fancied she would be free from one 
whose attentions made him so obnoxious to 
her. But the angry man followed her and 
accosted her in no friendly tone : — 


120 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


“ What do you mean by treating me this 
way? You have insulted me, and did any 
one else act so I should call them to an ac- 
count.’* 

Marie’s cheek glowed and her eyes shone 
with excitement, she was unable to make any 
reply, but Henry had seen all and was 
quickly at her side, and turning to Mr. 
Breyer addressed him in no gentle tone : — 

“ Mr. Breyer, it makes no difference if you 
are a fine gentlemen, you must not annoy or 
distress one of our village girls.” 

“ I have nothing to say to you, fellow ; or 
perhaps you have a special light to Marie, as 
you are so ready to stand up as her knight.” 

“No, but I will not permit any one to dis- 
tress or annoy her.” 

“ W ell, I call that a very pretty declaration 
of love, even if it is a little indirect,” an- 
swered Julius, in a scornful tone. “ But I 
wish to say a word to you, Marie ; do you 
mean to give me this dance and so make up 
for your rudeness ? ” 

“No, she will not dance with you, Mr. 
Breyer.” 

“I did not speak to you, you impudent 
rascal.” 

“ But I have answered you, — she will not 
dance with you.” 


THE LAST MASQUERADE, 121 

For answer he received a stinging, re- 
sounding slap on his face from Julius’ insult- 
ing hand. Inflamed with passion, the angry 
man seized his assailant’s#slight figure in his 
strong arms, and before ever Marie could 
interpose with her prayers, he had carried 
him the length of the room, down the steep 
flight of stairs, and, carefully depositing him 
outside of the inn door in the cold February 
night, left him there with a scornful “ Good- 
night, Mr. von Breyer.” 

When he returned to the dancing hall he 
found all as gay and festive as if no disturb- 
ance had taken place. The people either 
had not observed it, or determined for rea- 
sons of their own to ignore it; even the 
Hofbauer sat composedly at his table enjoy- 
ing his mug of beer, discussing affairs social 
and political, with his usual deliberation, with 
his neighbors. Henry sought Marie, who sat 
apart, vainly striving to quiet the wild beat- 
ing of her heart and waiting with undefined 
feelings for the return of her gallant de- 
fender. Gladly she would have left the 
noisy scene and found refuge in her own 
quiet little room. She felt that she had been 
the unwitting cause of the unhappy affair. 
Upon whom else could the blame be laid but 


122 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


upon herself ? But she forgot these scruples 
when Henry’s tall form once more stood at 
her side and she heard his voice addressing 
her in tones of tenderest anxiety : — 

“ Marie, are you angry with me for what I 
have done ? I could not help it ; I could not 
stand quietly by and see and hear that man 
insult you, just because he was rich and well- 
dressed.” 

Marie looked shyly up into the honest 
face and loving, faithful eyes as she timidly 
replied : — 

“ I think you have paid dearly for it, Henry. 
That was a stinging blow he gave you.” 

“It was for you I bore it,” — again the 
music sounded, again she was borne around 
the room in his dear arms, and she forgot all 
as she listened to the whispered, broken 
words that fell upon her ear, sweeter far than 
sweetest strains of music ever heard by 
mortal ear, — “ and I Avould shed my blood 
for you, if I only dared to say how gladly ; 
were you but as poor as I, then I could speak, 
but it is only with silent love that I dare 
look upon you, the daughter of the rich Hof- 
bauer, — but it is said now ; forgive me if I 
have offended you, my heart has run away 
with my tongue.” 


THE LAST MASQUERADE. 


123 


“ I am not angry, Henry,” the words were 
whispered in tones so low that the blond 
head had to be brought still nearer to catch 
the faint sound; “we will trust in God. 
All may yet be well with us.” 

Henry could have rejoiced aloud in his un- 
speakable joy, his heart swelled with emo- 
tions of delight, the loud, discordant blasts 
from the musicians’ stand sounded like 
strains from heaven’s own choir, for he knew 
now, yes, beyond all doubt he knew that 
the “Angel of the Village” loved him, 
had yielded herself to his ardent, devoted 
love. He scarcely knew when the dance 
ended, or when the music ceased ; he saw, as 
in a waking dream, the Hofbauer rise from 
his seat behind the table and Marie’s light 
figure pass him, saying a soft “ Good-night,” 
and he heard as if in sleep her father’s 
friendly admonition “ not to stay too late.” 
Nor did he know how long he sat in his bliss- 
ful dreamings. At last he rose and slowly 
went home to the Prinzenhof, over which the 
azure blue- heaven bent with its gleaming 
stars, and lay himself upon his hard Ked to 
dream anew fresh dreams of love and joy. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


AN AWFUL GUEST. 

ARNIVAL Monday was universally ob- 



served at Hohenau as a half-holiday^ 
even if it were not given as such by the 
church calendar. The peasants in the neigh- 
borhood, even those in independent circum- 
stances, observed this custom and granted a 
corresponding privilege to all their servants. 
Only from the dark chimneys of the factory 
the black smoke poured in as heavy clouds 
as ever, showing that the master considered 
that his employes had had quite enough en- 
joyment in that which Carnival Sunday had 
yielded to them. Julius Breyer sat at his 
desk, chagrined and crestfallen ; his thoughts 
were not upon his work to-day; head and 
heart throbbed at the recollection of the in- 
sult offered him last evening, and vindictive 
wrath and hate filled his soul. He sought to 
forget it in his work, and drove his pen 
swiftly over the paper before him — but in 


AN AWFUL GUEST. 


125 


vain ; his head sank upon his hand ; he saw, 
in fancy, the beautiful girl whom he loved so 
fondly, he saw beside her the tall, strong 
man in his glowing, abounding health and 
youth, the man who had handled him with 
such uncompromising energy the night 
before. And this fellow was the son of a 
workman, of one of his own workmen, with 
whom he was brought in daily contact, for 
John Kleemann had been promoted to the 
post of manager of one of the departments 
and came daily to the counting-room, and 
Julius thought with a pang how the constant 
sight of this man must forever recall the 
humiliating encounter of the night before. 

In the excitement caused by these 
thoughts, he sprang from his stool and strode 
hastily up and down the room. The head 
bookkeeper glanced up in momentary aston- 
ishment at this extraordinary behavior, then 
proceeded calmly with his accounts. It was 
no concern of his, this that disturbed the 
young man so much, and his father, who 
looked with cool, untroubled eyes after his 
son whose uneasiness he had already ob- 
served, said nothing and was still silent Vvdien 
Julius seized his hat and rushed into the cold 
air, that he might calm his quivering nerves 


126 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

and cool his feverish brow in the snow-storm 
that was falling heavily from the steel-dark 
sky. 

At the dinner-table, however, his father 
questioned him as to the cause of his re- 
markable behavior, and Julius, who did not 
in the least hesitate to lie when lying served 
his purpose, gave the account that suited him 
best of his encounter with Henry Kleemann 
the night before, carefully avoiding all ex- 
pressions that might betray his feelings in 
reference to Marie, and winding up with an 
imperative demand for the immediate dis- 
missal of the father of the young man from 
the factory. His father heard the story in 
silence, a heavy shadow falling over his face 
when his son spoke of Henry’s rough treat- 
ment, but when Julius ceased speaking he 
said : — 

“ The ‘ Star ’ is never, especially upon such 
occasions as yesterday was, a fit place for 
you, and I feel like saying that all this serves 
you right for going there. ‘ He who touches 
pitch defiles himself.’ But you went and 
this has occurred, and it is not possible to get 
proper satisfaction from the fellow, as you 
struck him first, but on the other hand his 
impudence must not be allowed to go unpun- 


AN AWFUL GUEST. 


127 


ished, and about the only way to punish him 
is to make his father suffer for his son’s be- 
havior. I will discharge Kleemann, though I 
dislike to do it, exceedingly ; he is a valuable 
man, reliable and satisfactory in every way.” 

And that very day it was announced to 
John Kleemann that his services were no 
longer required, a suggestion being made at 
the same time that it would be to his advan- 
tage to teach his children better manners, 
and make them more clearly understand the 
respect due to their superiors. Had lightning 
flashed upon him from a clear sky the man 
could not have been more confounded than 
he was by tliis news. True, he had feared 
some evil result from the encounter in the 
ball-room, between his son and young Mr. 
Breyer, but anything so dreadful as this he 
had not apprehended. On one side he had 
trusted too much to the sense of justice with 
which he accredited Mr. Breyer, and on 
the other he did not appreciate how artfully' 
Julius would misrepresent the entire affair. 
He stood supporting himself against the desk 
so pale and speechless that even the book- 
keeper, who had given him his discharge, was 
moved to pity, but he was powerless to help. 
Without a word the unhappy man put his 


128 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

hat on his head and left the room, his heart 
throbbing almost to suffocation. He could 
have cried aloud in his despair when his 
little children ran to meet him and his wife’s 
tender greeting fell upon his ear. Sorrow 
and lamentation prevailed in the little cottage 
till the trust in God, which never failed the 
faithful wife, had worked its powerful spell 
upon the despairing man. 

Dark as the clouds were which compassed 
him round, there were rifts here and there, 
which let in the light of hope. The Union 
stood ready to help him, for it was not his 
fault that he was without work. Henry, of 
course, was sadly disturbed by the unex- 
pected consequences of his action, and, with 
his bright blue eyes filled with tears, assured 
his father of his sincere regret and insisted 
upon going directly to Julius to beg his 
pardon upon his knees, and pray that his 
father might be re-instated in his lost posi- 
tion. But Ulrich held him back from this ; 
he knew Mr. Breyer better than did the 
simple, unsophisticated lad, he knew well the 
obdurate, obstinate heart which never yielded 
or forgave ; but he promised to do what he 
could to help them out of the trouble, and in 
the meantime John Kleemann drew his 


AN AWFUL GUEST. 


129 


weekly allotted amount from the Workmen’s 
Union. 

Ulrich reproved Henry for his rash be- 
havior and peremptory treatment of the 
young master, hut in his heart he was pleased 
that his daughter had been so gallantly de- 
fended from his insolence. 

Dark days now broke over Hohenau. The 
seeds sown by Dr. Feigel were bearing their 
bitter fruit, and the people were reaping the 
harvest. A shadowy guest wandered in 
their midst, whose presence was evidenced 
by the fresh mounds in the church-yard, 
which daily increased, and by the despairing 
lamentations and heart-rending cries that 
told of bitter grief and bereavement in the 
little homes, as one after another the mem- 
bers of the households were stricken and 
then grew still in the deadly power of that 
fearful disease, — typhus fever, — the sure 
outgrowth of such conditions of want and 
squalor as prevailed at this time in Hoh- 
enau. The terrible scenes that followed 
each other in quick succession were enough 
to make the stoutest heart recoil in horror ; 
parents bent with pale, emaciated faces over 
the children whose cheeks were almost trans- 
parent from lack of nourishment ; they had 


130 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 


to sit powerless by the dying ones and watch 
the tired eyes close, with no saving remedy 
at hand; and though their hearts might 
break in their agony, no help was theirs to 
give in this hour of direst need. Curses, 
many and deep, rose from the little rooms, 
where these sad scenes were enacted, where 
Death had already harvested his awful har- 
vest, or where the watchers stood by watch- 
ing their beloved powerless in his grasp, — 
curses against the heartless master upon 
whose heartless tyranny they laid the blame 
for all they were suffering. 

In John Kleemann’s cottage his two little 
children lay upon the bed of pain and death* 
The heart-broken father stood, with drawn 
features and pallid countenance, by the little 
sufferers, passing his hand gently over the 
fevered brows, and caressing the wasted 
cheeks. He was frantic with grief, but no 
blessed rain of tears relieved his bursting 
heart, and he envied his wife, in a dumb, 
hopeless way, as he watched her weep unre- 
strainedly. He seemed like one turned to 
stone, the gleaming, restless fire in his eyes 
the only sign of the life that burned so fiercely 
within him. But the moans of the little ones 
became further and further apart, the tossing 


AN A WFUL GUEST. 


131 


limbs quieter, then still, — still forever, — 
for all was over. In his own arms the grief- 
stricken father bore his beloved children to 
the little God’s acre upon the hill-side and 
there left them to their eternal rest, and then 
came home in a dazed, quiet way to stretch 
himself upon his bed and give himself up to 
the same frightful disease. His wife’s tears 
were quickly dried, and the loving woman 
kept faithful watch by his side. The fever 
seized him with unusual violence, and her 
task was not a light one. Marie was there 
by her side, faithful in sharing in the weary 
watches. Her father, too, did all that lay in 
his power to assuage the sufferings of the 
entire community ; bread and meal, milk and 
potatoes, ever}dhing in fact that the 
good man owned was shared liberally with 
the suffering, needy people, but the epidemic 
was under full headway, and to check it was 
an herculean task. The greatest needs now 
were good nurses and good physicians. Hoh- 
enau had but one doctor, an elderly man whose 
selfish nature never permitted him to risk his 
health without hope of ample reward, and 
Hohenau, impoverished and desolated as it 
now was, was in no condition to promise any- 
thing. And who was left in the sad homes 


132 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

to nurse the stricken ones where, when the 
fever once gained foothold, all were bowed 
by its terrible power ? By each of the hard 
couches in turn sat Marie, the sweet com- 
forter of the sufferers, with calming touch 
soothing the aching head, binding cool 
compresses upon hot brows, pouring the med- 
icines through parched lips that refused them 
in wild delirium, hastening eagerly here and 
there, tending all, comforting and encour- 
aging all, not failing even when the pale 
angel of death spread his grey wings over 
the doomed one, but faithful to the end, 
offering up on bended knee the prayers for 
departing souls. 

And now the great benefits to be derived 
from the Union became most clearly evident 
to all, its blessings extending not only to 
those who were regular members, but to all 
the men who needed its saving help, — this 
having been determined upon by the good 
priest and his noble co-worker, the Hofbauer, 
with some of the most prominent members. 
A skilful physician oame threc^ times a week 
from the nearest city; with medicines and 
other remedies and appliances needed in such 
cases, these expenses being all met by the 
treasury of the Union. The want of regular 


AN- AWFUL GUEST. 


133 


organized nursing was the source of great 
grief to the compassionate peasant and the 
zealous pastor, and this want they resolved 
should be supplied. 

There is in Germany an order, known as 
the Sisters of Mercy, composed of noble 
women, bound together by solemn vows to 
help and care for those who may need them. 
When sickness and sorrow spread their dark 
pinions over the bowed head of humanity, 
when relatives and friends draw shuddering 
back from fear of contagion, to leave the 
poor sufferer to lie forsaken and forlorn, then 
the good “ Sisters ” draw near to lay their soft, 
cooling hands upon burning brows, to lead 
back to life, or cheer the pathway to the dark 
river ; close by the bedside of the dead and 
dying, at the cannon’s mouth on fields of 
blood and carnage, are they to be found, 
these quiet figures in their dark, clinging 
garments, failing never to carry messages of 
comfort and peace. All honor to these brave 
women who have voluntarily resigned the 
joys of this earth to devote the holy energies 
of their hearts and souls to the service of the 
suffering, looking with calm eyes upon death 
itself, so often met in such horrible shapes 
upon the scenes in which they are ever faith- 
ful witnesses. 


134 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


Six of these sisters, at the instance of the 
devoted pastor, were brought to Hohenau, 
where with holy self-abnegation they took up 
their sacred work ; to be found always upon 
that spot where the greatest need prevailed. 
Ulrich gave up for their use a portion of the 
Prinzenhof, an apartment where they could 
in turn take a few hours of rest and receive 
the nourishment necessary to support their 
strength. The united efforts of the good 
people were at last successful in checking 
the awful progress of the pestilence, and 
whilst many succumbed to the poison already 
in their veins, many were rescued who at 
times seemed doomed to fall its victims. 

Even Mr. Breyer had suffered from' the 
epidemic, or its consequences at least. 
Many of his workmen were prostrated by it ; 
some, set free by it from his tyrannical power 
forever, lay deep in the dark earth. Many 
of the new workmen had left the little cot- 
tages by the factory and fled from the 
dreaded contagion, his business grew daily 
more and more depressed, and it was not to 
be wondered at that the master was far from 
being in a comfortable state of mind. Per- 
sonally, he had remained unchanged, even in 
full view of the distress which spread around 


AN A WFUL GUEST. 


135 


him on all sides ; he was, as he had always 
been, the grasping man of business, to whom 
the whole condition of affairs appeared but 
as a financial loss, and he rated the havoc 
about him only so far as it occasioned him 
loss of time and money. It never occurred 
to him to offer a helping hand to the helpless 
people about him ; they were nothing to him 
outside of his factory, a few men more or less 
upon the earth, — what was that to him ? 
But he raged in his wicked heart against the 
Power which had taken a number of his 
living machines from him. 

When, therefore, one day the Hofbauer en- 
tered his office, and, after a courteous greet- 
ing, asked him in the name of humanity not 
to close his heart entirely against the suffer- 
ings of his work-people, but to do something 
for them, were it but a trifle, Mr. Breyer 
answered him with the studied coldness that 
always marked his relationship with his sub- 
ordinates. He said the men were but getting 
their dues, had they not voluntarily thrown 
away their work and their wages, these trou- 
bles would not have come upon them ; to all 
of which Ulrich said “much could be said 
upon both sides, though he did not wish by 
any means to be considered as a sympathizer 


136 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


with the strike.” Mr. Breyer then told him 
very plainly that he had conscientiously paid 
the men their wages and did not feel in the 
least bound to give any more ; moreover, he 
wished to say, that he could not understand 
how Ulrich, a Hofbauer and magistrate of 
Hohenau, could maintain the position that he 
did with this “ rabble ” and come to him for 
assistance for them. 

After this harsh speech there seemed 
nothing more to be gaid ; hard words . with 
certain truth in them sprung to the lips of 
the honest old man, but he choked them 
back as useless, and turned silently away, 
but a feeling of contempt crept into his heart 
for the man who could be so deaf to the plea 
of his suffering fellow-beings. In the vesti- 
bule he met Julius, and quickly resolved to 
make one more plea, one more attempt to 
secure aid for the suffering community. It 
was to a young, warm heart that he would 
appeal this time, not to one entirely es- 
tranged from and indifferent to the claims of 
charity, and once more he told the pitiful 
tale which he had so lately poured into the 
ears of the callous master. Julius was at 
once interested and entered readily into the 
feelings of the kind old man ; he promised to 


AN- A IVFUL GUEST. 


137 


use his influence mth his father and to do all 
that he could to shake his determination to 
do nothing for the men ; and he gave upon 
the spot as his own contribution a consider- 
able sum, which he begged Ulrich to use 
towards the amelioration of their condition. 

If Julius acted out of pure compassion, his 
motive should not be undervalued ; he was 
undoubtedly capable of generous sentiment 
and impulse, and the wants of the people 
whose energies had been expended in his 
service and that of his father, did certainly 
make themselves felt ; but at the same time 
he did not forget that it was Marie’s father 
who stood before him pleading a cause, and 
his gracious acquiescence was by no means 
weakened by the thought that it might speak 
a favorable word for him into the ear, that 
hitherto had been so deaf to his own most 
eloquent pleadings. Even now, as he looked 
into the anxious but kindly face before him, 
and thought how brave and good was the 
faithful heart beating under his plain, old- 
fashioned coat, his own leaped to his lips and 
he felt that he must speak, and lay bare all 
the emotions that were stinging him so 
deeply, to this strong, noble man who stood 
looking at him with such gratitude shining 


138 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


from his honest eyes. But he controlled 
himself with a powerful effort, determining 
to wait for a more favorable opportunity. 

The Hofbauer had scarcely hoped for so 
cordial a reception, for he feared that the 
younger Breyer might be offended with him 
on account of the affair which had taken 
place at the “ Star ” on Carnival Sunday, it 
being his daughter who had been the cause 
of it and his servant who had taken it upon 
himself to defend her so summarily ; besides 
which, he was quite sure that John Klee- 
mann’s dismissal had been the young man’s 
revenge, and he was, therefore, surprised by 
the friendly greeting and liberal donation 
from him. It was therefore with a warm, 
cordial pressure of the hand that he parted 
fiom the young man and reproached him- 
self, as he took his homeward way, for the 
hard thoughts which he had often indulged 
against the rich, fearing that he had been un- 
just to them. 


CHAPTER IX. 


ENMITY BETWEEN THE EAST AND WEST. 

S PRING had come. Far off on the moun- 
tains shone snowy summits guarded 
yet by the fleeing winter, but a tender green 
hung like a veil over the valleys, and the 
spring flowers rang in the resurrection 
morning of the year. The little brook that 
flowed around Hohenau leaped from its icy 
fetters, tree and bush were covered with tiny 
blossoms, soft breezes gently fanned the 
budding foliage, and waves of light, pene- 
trated by the life-giving rays of the spring 
sun, flooded the deep valleys. Pale men 
now stole forth for the first time into the 
blessed sunshine, to praise the Lord that 
they had been spared to enjoy once more the 
beauties of his bounteous nature. Many had 
been borne off by the black horseman, and the 
clods were growing green upon ther graves ; 
but many, thanks to the watchful care be- 
stowed recently, had escaped this fate. 


140 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


John Kleemann was one who had been 
spared and to-day went out for the first time, 
leaning upon the arm of his devoted wife. 
Slowly they mounted the hill at the foot of 
which lay their humble home, to the little 
church-yard where his children slept. In si- 
lence the sorrowful parents stood by the 
little mounds, the father with patient, folded 
hands, hot tears falling fast over the thin 
cheeks of the heart-broken mother, till at last 
her husband took her wasted hands in his and 
said tenderly : — 

“ Be comforted, dear wife ; the Lord gave 
them and He took them away ; let us try to 
say, ‘blessed be His holy name.”’ 

Then the two turned sorrowfully away 
and went slowly down the hillside and took 
their way to the Prinzenhof, where they 
wished personally to express their sense of 
indebtedness to the noble Hofbauer for the 
innumerable kindnesses he had showered 
upon them in the terrible times just past, 
thanks given with tearful gratitude and 
kindly received, but gently waived aside by 
the man who consistently and conscientiously 
bore the burdens of others. And when the 
April sun sank in the red clouds behind the 
gleaming, far-off white mountains, the invalid 


ENMITY, 


141 


returned to his home, mother Anna upon one 
side, Marie upon the other ; Henry, being 
busy in one of the distant fields, did not see 
his father. 

A glorious Easter festival was celebrated 
by the little church that year. Joyfully the 
glad sun rose to pour its bright beams 
through the windows upon the figures bent 
in prayer, either in deep gratitude to God 
for that which had been spared them, or 
upon those who strove to draw still nearer 
to Him, seeking to win His peace through 
the balm of real, heart-felt resignation to His 
will. In glad, triumphant accord the music 
soared above, repeating again and yet again, 
the “ glad tidings of great joy,” — “ The 
Lord is risen ! ” Without the church, over 
the newly-made graves. Nature wove her 
tender covering of palest green and the first 
sweet flowers of Spring raised their gentle 
heads, mute but eloquent messengers of 
God’s unfailing, unforgetting love, whilst 
within, the stricken human hearts waited not 
in vain for that peace from above which 
“passeth all understanding.” In the front 
pew sat the six Sisters of Mercy, who today 
bade farewell to their sacred work in 
Hohenau, and many pale lips breathed loving, 


142 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


grateful prayers for them, and called Heaven’s 
dearest blessings to rest upon their devoted 
heads. Modest and fair as the waking 
flowers of Spring, Marie sat near them. 
Truly she had won a “ seat of honor ” and 
right well vindicated her right to the title of 
the “Angel of the Village ” in this dark time. 
Tearful eyes shone upon the good sisters 
when they bade farewell to the Prinzenhof, 
and grateful prayers followed them as they 
took their way far over the blue mountains 
to take up their blessed work in other fields. 

In the factory, the old routine was 
gradually resumed; the strange workmen 
returned and again occupied the little cot- 
tages, and, in spite of the prayers of the poor 
men, who, dazzled by the artful misrepresen- 
tations of a bad man, had given up their 
places, the arbitrary man refused to take 
them back again. The Union still existed, 
but owing to the heavy demands made upon 
it in the last few weeks, its treasury was 
sadly depleted and equal to no further drain 
upon its resources ; and so once more kind 
old Ulrich took upon himself the trying posi- 
tion of ambassador and peace-maker between 
the laborers and manufacturer. 

On Easter Monday, a glorious day, when 


ENMITY. 


143 


the bright blue heavens spanned the little 
village with a cloudless sky, — a fair back- 
ground for the black wreaths of smoke which 
again poured from the tall chimney, — he 
took his way to the factory. It was quite 
early and he found Mr. Breyer still in the 
handsome breakfast room already referred to. 
The polite greeting of the old peasant won 
but a cool acknowledgment, and Mr. Breyer 
nodded to him to be seated whilst he pro- 
ceeded undisturbed and in the most leisurely 
manner imaginable to discuss his morning 
meal. Ulrich, however, was not a man easily 
discouraged, and did not readily give up his 
undertakings, especially when, like this one, 
they lay so close to his heart. So with equa- 
nimity quite equal to Mr. Breyer’s, he laid 
his hat aside and seated himself composedly 
to wait that gentleman’s pleasure. 

“How can I serve you?” at last his host 
inquired with a frosty politeness, and without 
even raising his eyes to Ulrich’s face. 

“ Mr. Breyer, I am a plain man, and a man 
of few words, but I have a heart in my body, 
and it is heavy at the sight of the need and 
wretchedness which surrounds us on every 
side. You know, Mr. Breyer, how the 
typhus-fever has slain the poor people about 


144 the angel of the village. 

ns, and you know as well as I do what has 
caused this famine-typhus to rage; want is 
the mother of this terrible disease, and this 
want was the bitter consequence of mistakes 
made by ignorant men, who, misled by one 
who should have known better, started the 
labor strike. They have been heavily pun- 
ished now ; they have atoned for their 
mistakes, for they have suffered like banished 
spirits; take the wanderers back, for they 
have sincerely repented, and the thanks and 
the blessings of the poor will be heaped upon 
you, whilst if you do not they will burden 
their souls with curses that they will heap 
upon you. Do not push the children of your 
own community away for the sake of 
strangers ; I will answer for them, you shall 
have no cause for complaint in the future.” 

Mr. Breyer raised his cold blue eyes to the 
eager face of the earnest pleader as he paused 
in his prayer, and passing his napkin lightly 
over his lips, said quietly : — 

“ I regret to say, magistrate, that I cannot 
comply with your request, and I wish you to 
understand that I say this now for the last 
time. I assure you, you are wasting j^our 
time, which is doubtless valuable to you. I 
told them when I took them back the last 


ENMITY. 


145 


time, after they had struck for higher wages 
that, should such a thing occur again, I 
would never take them into my employ again. 
I never break my word, and they must bear 
the results of their own actions.” 

“ No, the consequences will rest upon you. 
God may forgive you for this, but the poor 
people never will.” 

The honest man had risen, his cheeks 
flushed and his usually calm eyes flashing 
with unwonted feeling. He seized his hat, 
and with a hasty good-morning took a short 
leave of the cold-blooded man, whom he left 
picking his teeth as indifferently as if the 
fates of helpless, hopeless men, women and 
children had not just been decided by his un- 
feeling decision. Poor Ulrich’s heart sank 
within him as he realized that such power 
could be joined with such heartlessness. 
When he reached the great entrance gates he 
turned and looked back at the dark, lofty 
buildings, and his thoughts involuntarily 
turned to the good old times when Mr. 
Frederick owned it all, the man whp carried 
the men in his heart, who would in turn 
have served him upon their knees, or carried 
him in their loving, devoted arms, high 
above all rough places. The fruitless result 


146 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


of his errand made a deep impression upon 
the waiting men. First, a deep depression 
fell upon them, but they soon aroused them- 
selves from this, and the murmurs of the 
discontent which, naturally enough, echoed 
through their sadly tried hearts, rose to their 
lips in groans and protestations of heavy im- 
port. Clouds were gathering around the 
factory and over the head of its tyrannous 
master, — clouds of which he little dreamed, 
but which were of his own summoning. 

The east and west of Hohenau grew 
further and further apart; the Hofbauer 
could only think of the master \vith disap- 
probation which verged upon personal ani- 
mosity, and the manufacturer was irritated 
that the Hofbauer had again disturbed him 
by prayers which he was obstinately deter- 
mined not to grant, and soon an event oc- 
curred which ripened the latent enmity into 
a full-fledged, not-to-be-ignored fact. 

The spring and summer had again passed, 
and autumn once more hung its grey skies 
over the little village ; the fields were bare 
and the barns were full, and the autumn 
festival was near at hand. It was then that 
the final rupture between the Prinzenhof and 
the factory came. There is a narrow pass 


ENMITY. 


i4r 

near Hohenau which cuts off much of the 
distance between this village and other 
points, as the highway here makes a long 
detour, but this pass is too narrow to admit 
of vehicles passing in it. High sand-cliffs 
rise on either side, upon which large plants 
and tall ferns grow, hanging over it at times in 
their rank luxuriance, and the heavy foliage 
almost veiling the pathway. On account of 
a sharp bend in the road two vehicles often 
meet unexpectedly, each unconscious of the 
approach of the other, and the only alterna- 
tive is then that one driver shall dismount, 
and back his equipage as best he can out of 
the disagreeable predicament. One day a 
heavil}" laden wagon came slowly down the 
hill that leads into this narrow pass, drawn 
by two large oxen and behind which strode 
old Ulrich, the smoking pipe between his 
lips, his brows drawn down in earnest 
thought ; for even yet the arrogant refusal to 
his prayer in the cause of the down-trodden 
workmen, given by the manufacturer, lay 
upon him like a nightmare. His simple un- 
derstanding, his generous heart, could not 
comprehend the spirit that sustained the rich' 
man. And even as he thought, there ap- 
peared coming through the pass from the 


148 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


opposite direction, a dashing cabriolet, drawn 
by a large, spirited black horse. Lupus in 
fabul^ ! It was he, indeed, who with appar- 
ent indifference leaned indolently back upon 
the cushions, with his proud, pale face seem- 
ingly unconscious of any obstacles in his 
path, and who, although he saw the great, 
heavy wagon steadily approach, gave no sign 
of halting. It did not occur to the straight- 
forward Ulrich for a moment that it was in- 
tended that he should back his heavily laden 
wagon out of the way of the light carriage. 
The two vehicles were close to each other ; 
the oxen stood looking with their great, mild 
eyes at the curveting steed, and the manu- 
facturer sat, indifferently holding the lines. 
The peasant observed with surprise that no 
motion was made to make way for him, and 
after a moment’s hesitation, said politely : — 

“You see, Mr. Breyer, that we cannot 
possibly pass here ; will you have the good- 
ness to back ? ” 

“ I do not in the least intend to back, to 
make way for a peasant ; on the contrary, I 
order you to get out of my way,” haughtily 
replied Mr. Breyer. 

“ I supposed that you had more sense than 
to give an order like that,” responded the 


ENMITY. 


149 


Hofbauer in no pleasant tone, for he was by 
no means in a state of mind to yield to any 
demand made by Mr. Breyer ; “ do you not 
see that my wagon is heavily loaded and that 
it is impossible for me to turn on the side of 
this hill? You know, besides, that it is 
always the custom for the one who is upon 
the level road to back, which is an easy thing 
for you to do in your light carriage. So do 
you back, sir; I have authority for what I 
say.” 

The Hofbauer’s temper was rising, and the 
imperative tone in which the words were 
spoken was not calculated to sooth the tem- 
per of the man to whom they were addressed, 
but only served to strengthen him in his ob- 
stinate determination not to yield to the man 
whom he so heartily hated. He drew a 
newspaper from his pocket and began to 
read. 

“ All right, I can wait ; my time is not 
engaged this afternoon and I shall lose 
nothing by so doing.” 

“ But I have something to do and I tell 
you for the last time to back!” and the 
veins swelled on the forehead of the proud 
old peasant ; his voice vibrated through the 
still air and his tone grew yet more threat- 


160 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

ening. For all answer Mr. Breyer aiiily 
puffed a little cloud of smoke from his 
Havana, not raising his eyes from his paper. 
The peasant waited for a moment, then ad- 
vanced to the horse, and taking the bridle in 
his hand deliberately proceeded to back the 
carriage out of the pass. The deep, almost 
purple flush of sudden passion dyed the face 
of the usually passive man, and springing up 
in his carriage he seized his whip and laid it 
with all his might upon the animal, who, 
wild with the stinging pain inflicted upon 
him, reared and plunged in his agony. But 
with all the power of his gigantic strength 
Ulrich held fast to the bit, and the horse was 
powerless in his grasp, incapable of making 
one step of progress. The rage of the manu- 
facturer became uncontrollable, and spring- 
ing from his carriage, he raised his whip over 
Ulrich. 

“ Let go those lines, you cursed villain, or 
I will break this whip over your thick skull.” 

The peasant drew himself to his fullest 
height and looked defiantly down upon his 
adversary, who, compared with him, did, in 
truth, look insignificant enough, and that in- 
stant the whip whizzed through the air, and 
the next a long red welt rose upon the noble 


ENMITY. 


161 


old forehead just where the white hair fell 
over it. With the quickness of thought 
Ulrich drove the plunging horse back upon 
his haunches, at the same time seizing Mr. 
Breyer by the throat. The horse remained 
perfectly still, though his quivering flanks 
and dilated nostrils proved that he, too, felt 
the excitement of the occasion. Ulrich 
wrenched the whip from his antagonist’s 
grasp, and, snapping it into little pieces, he 
trampled it in the dust under his feet. He 
then seized the slight figure of the manufac- 
turer and thrust him into the little carriage 
with such force that it creaked in all its 
joints, and, still holding the horse by the 
head, he backed him slowly and deliberately 
out of the pass into the highway. Mr. 
Breyer made no sign of assistance, but sat 
glaring at his victorious adversary with 
lowering, threatening stare. Before Ulrich 
proceeded upon his way he called to Mr. 
Breyer : — 

“ If you dare to drive in here again I will 
crush that nutshell of yours into atoms.” 

But the warning was unnecessary, and by 
the time Ulrich drove through the pass, Mr. 
Breyer was driving through the gates of the 
factoiy yard. 


162 THE AATGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

Ulrich drove his oxen to the entrance of 
the Prinzenhof, when he met one of his ser- 
vants, and consigned the team to his care, 
and turned then to the scene of the mis- 
erable, humiliating encounter. He walked 
slowly through the entire length of the pass ; 
there lay yet the remains of the once elegant 
whip. 

The unhappy man stood as one stunned, 
overpowered by a sense of disgrace, and the 
wild, unusual excitement to which he had 
been subjected. He looked down on the 
fragments of the whip at his feet, then 
passed his hand over his scarred forehead, — 
with this whip had the scar been made, — 
upon the forehead of the man honored and 
esteemed wherever he was known, and for 
the first time the cruel wound stung him, and 
his whole body trembled in its bitter pain. 
With no defined reason for so doing, he 
stooped half-unconsciously and gathered the 
broken bits together; the thought passed 
through his half-dazed mind that he would 
take them home, and lay them with the 
golden spur, which had given the old home 
of his father its honorable name ; that had 
been the sign of knightly honor granted to 
the first owner of the beautiful old Hof; 


ENMITY. 


163 


.these broken bits of a horse-whip should be 
the sign of the shame of his unworthy de- 
scendant. 

At the Prinzenhof no one had the slightest 
suspicion of the occurrence, all supposing that 
Ulrich was busily engaged in the fields. 
This supposition might possibly have been 
the reason that Henry selected this especial 
time in which to indulge in a few minutes’ 
rest in the large sitting-room. He certainly 
had no business there, but entered to find 
Marie sitting by the window, turning with 
busy foot the flying spinning-wheel. She 
blushed slightly when she saw who her 
visitor was. 

“ You must thank God for your father’s 
recovery, Henry,” she said after an awkward 
pause, in which the lad had stood silently by 
her, watching her busy fingers. 

“ Yes, I do thank God, and you and your 
father as well ; you have done so much, far 
more than I can ever repay you.” 

“Do you mean, that I must give you 
another opportunity to lay your strength out 
upon some one, as you did at the carnival ? ” 
she said lightly ; but the little joke fell awk- 
wardly from her lips, for the young man had 
suddenly become painfully embarrassed. He 
looked at her sadly, and said : — 


164 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


“ Do not joke with me to-day, for I am in 
no joking mood. Marie, I am going away ; I 
must leave you, I am too unhappy here. 
Your father is very good, and you, — you are 
more than good ; but I must not stay. No 
other place will be the same, but God will 
surely help me to find some other way in 
which I can help my parents.” 

The young girl was so surprised by this 
announcement, that she involuntarily rose to 
her feet, and, laying her hand upon Henry’s 
arm, said : — 

“ And why will you go, Henry ? ” 

“ Because, — because you cannot be mine,” 
and the poor fellow breathed hard; “and 
when I see you daily my heart breaks in 
despair.” 

He pressed his lips hard, as if fighting a 
battle, and Marie looked up at him with eyes 
filled with tears. 

“ I honor your resolution, Henry, and I 
dare not tell you to stay, for now we cannot 
be more than we are to each other ; but a 
better time may come, until then, let us hope 
and trust, and if it will make your burden 
any lighter to bear, I will tell you that I 
love you dearly, and that I will never many 
any one but you.” 

The lad’s sad eyes shone with joy. 


ENMITY. 


1-56 


“Me, — me, — do you truly love poor me ? 
Oh, you dear angel, — you, the dear ‘ Angel 
of the Village ! ’ ” and, clasping her slender 
figure in his strong arms for one brief 
moment, life here, with all its miserable cares 
and anxieties, was forgotten. But, alas ! for 
the briefness of that blessed moment, for the 
first shadow cast upon its sunshine was that 
of the Hofbauer’s stately figure, who stood 
motionless upon the threshold. 

“ Is the day accursed ? ” he exclaimed, 
after one glance at the sight, which seemed 
to paralyze him with amazement. The 
young people started quickly apart and stood 
overcome by deepest confusion, with their 
eyes bent upon the ground. Recovering 
himself, old Ulrich advanced to the great 
column that rose in the middle of the room 
and said quietly : — 

“ Come to me this evening for your wages, 
Henry ; you will leave the Prinzenhof early 
to-morrow morning.” 

A significant motion of the hand dismissed 
the young man from his presence, and with 
one last glance at Marie, Henry left the 
room. The Hofbauer sank into a chair by 
the table, and, supporting his heavy head 
upon his hand, said in a voice so weak, so 


166 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 


appealing, that, coming from the great, strong 
man, would have touched the hardest heart, 
and almost broke that of his gentle daughter, 
who had sunk down before him, weeping 
softly : 

“ Why have you done this to me, Marie ? ” 
He faltered. “Now I understand the con- 
test at the ‘Star’ between him and Mr. 
Breyer. It is all clear enough to me now.” 

“ Father, forgive him,” sobbed the weeping 
girl. “It was my fault; he would never 
have acted, or spoken as he has, had I not 
encouraged him.” 

Ulrich looked down upon his kneeling 
child; he could not bear to see her at his 
feet, and stooping, he raised her in his 
strong arms and pressed her to his heart, as 
he stroked her blushing cheeks and whis- 
pered gently : — 

“ And do you really love him so much ? ” 

The girl hid her flushed face in his breast 
for an answer. 

“ Then may God guide us as to what is to 
be done, — what is best to be done next. 
For the present, Henry must leave my ser- 
vice, and you must see each other as seldom 
as possible. Now, go, dear child, and see to 
the supper. The people are coming from the 
flelds.” 


ENMITY. 


157 


He kissed her upon the forehead, and 
pushed her gently from him. Again his 
head sunk upon his breast, and he was lost 
in deepest thought to all outward considera- 
tion. 


CHAPTER X. 


TJNEECONCILBD. 


HE wings of the night drooped heavy 



1 laden with leaden clouds over Hohe- 
nau. No stars shone in the darkened 
heavens ; now and then the fitful moan of 
the wind swept through the village street, 
rattling the windows of the little houses as if 
it called the people to hear the message it 
bore to them upon its way. But the people 
slept, careless of the rising gale, except a few 
who had not regained their usual strength, 
and for whom these organ notes of Nature 
waked too loud a slumber-song, rousing fears 
and presages unknown to healthier ears. 
“ God protect us from fire,” was one of the 
oft-repeated prayers offered up by these 
wakeful ones. At the Prinzenhof all was 
still, every one wrapped in sleep and dreams. 
Ulrich had forgotten the unhappy circum- 
stances of the day as soon as his tired eyes 
had closed, Henry dreamed over the won- 


UNT^ECONCILED. 


159 


drous miracle the last few hours had 
wrought, and Marie smiled in her sleep over 
her happy ^'isions. 

A star rose over the shingled roof of the 
barn and shone for one short moment with 
steady brilliancy, and then, — but no, that 
could be no star, that glittering phenome- 
non that shot in quick succession such 
varied rays of red and blue ; it was fire, — 
fire ! and the people slept ! The golden 
flames mounted higher and higher, a rain of 
fiery sparks, wind-hunted, swept here and 
there, till they fell in thick showers upon the 
roof of the mansion ; a sea of flames seemed 
to rest upon the building, and the watch-dog 
howled as he tugged frantically at his chain. 

“ Fire ! fire! ’Tang through the village, and 
soon the avenue which led up to the Prin- 
zenhof was alive with those who had come to 
help the unfortunate inmates of the doomed 
house. By this time the people were 
aroused, and rushed terrified through the 
flames which rose upon every side, and coiled 
like snakes around the dry wood-work, and 
devoured with their fiery tongues all that 
came in their way. Half clad, the men and' 
women thronged into the court-yard, which 
was as brilliantly lighted as if by the rays of 


160 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 


the sun at mid-day, half distracted and 
wholly helpless. But helping hands came at 
last ; the engines dashed up from the village, 
the buckets passed from hand to hand, and 
the lake, beautiful in its calm, amidst all this 
wild excitement, reflected the burning build- 
ings and leaping flames in their fantastic 
shapes, and lent its sources to quench the fire 
that seemed in a fair way to destroy the en- 
tire establishment. The engines did their 
work well, pouring forth great bodies of 
Tjrater which rose in lofty curves and fell 
hissing upon the fiery sea beneath; but the 
flames rose in angry triumph, and stretched 
a fiery veil across the dark sky. 

The Hofbauer soon regained his self- 
command, and returned to the house to re- 
gain the strong-box containing the work- 
men’s money, which he tossed into John 
Kleemann’s hands ; returning again, he again 
emerged from the smoke and flames with 
another box, containing the golden spur ; but 
then he realized, as he looked upon the 
group of terrified women, among whom he 
had supposed his daughter was, safe from all 
danger, that she was not there, and a cry of 
agonized despair rose from his lips : — 

“ My child ! my Marie, where is she ? Oh, 


UNRECONCILED. 


161 


save her, save her, for God’s sake save my 
child ! ” and sunk upon his knees overcome 
by his horrible fears for her possible fate. 
The strong man wrung his hands in his 
despair; but a saviour was at hand. Henry 
had heard the cr}", and seizing a heavy horse- 
blanket, which he plunged into a bucket of 
water, he wrapped it round him and dashed 
into the flames. The rafters were falling 
around him on all sides; more and more 
eagerly the fiery tongues were darting here 
and there when he reappeared, springing 
down the long ladders three steps at a time, 
regardless of the flames which singed his 
hair and face. But what was that to him ? 
for safe within the protecting blanket lay 
the dear object for which he had risked his 
life. Straight to her father he bore her, and, 
laying her all unconscious in his arms, he 
sank at his feet in a swoon so deadly, that 
it seemed in truth like death. The father 
clasped his child close to his heart, indif- 
ferent, in his speechless joy and gratitude, to 
the bursting flame and falling timbers, for 
his child was safe ! His barns, which had 
been filled with the rich blessings of the year, 
the price of months of unceasing toil, sunk 
to the ground ; his house, the home of his 


162 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


forefathers, and in which they had dwelt for 
centuries, honored and esteemed, sank too to 
the earth, the food of the devouring flames, 
but — he had his child ! To the honest man, 
thought of the possessions of others came 
first ; the savings of the poor men must first 
be rescued, and at his life’s peril he had car- 
ried them from the house through the flames. 
All his own money, which was no insignifi- 
cant sum, had gone; nothing remained to 
him but the few cows which were driven 
from the burning stables, and the little 
casket he carried under his arm. He raised 
the lid and looked at the golden spur, the 
talisman of the family, as it gleamed in the 
flickering firelight, this insignia of honor to 
save which he had but now risked his life, 
and beside it lay the pieces of the broken 
horse-whip. But all resentment had died 
out of his heart, and he sincerely repented of 
his part in the unhappy affair of the day 
before, for his religion was a religion of love ; 
and slowly and thoughtfully he took the 
pieces in his hand, these that he considered 
his badge of disgrace and dishonor, and de- 
liberately threw them one after the other 
into the fire. 

So the night passed ; when the day broke 


UNRECONCILED. 


1(T3 

the heavens opened and poured its deluges 
upon the earth; but too late, — the falling 
drops hissed upon the smoking ruins of the 
once beautiful home. The members of the 
household found shelter among friends and 
neighbors. Marie lay in John Kleemann’s 
little cottage, in the care of her second 
mother, and Henry was by her side. He 
would yield his place to none ; he allowed 
nothing to draw him away from the flower he 
had saved from destruction. He did not feel 
the wounds the fire had given him, he forgot 
all in watching her every breath; and the 
doctor’s assurance that her injuries were so 
slight, that they amounted in fact to nothing, 
filled his heart with joy. He was richly re- 
warded for all that he had risked and 
suffered for her sake. When she returned to 
consciousness her eyes sought his face first, 
there to rest in loving faith and trust. Her 
father embraced him, and said : — ■ 

“ I cannot repay you, Henry ; I was proud 
and overbearing to you yesterday, I did not 
think you were good enough for my Marie ; 
but you have won her for yourself, for you 
have saved her for all ; take her, and she 
shall be your wife when the Prinzenhof 
rises from its ashes.” 


164 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


The heart of love leaped for joy. He saw a 
rosy future rise behind the black clouds, that 
still lay over the ruins, and could have blest 
the fire and the hand, or the accident, that 
caused it; for the origin of the fire had not 
yet been explained. As it was yet early 
autumn, Ulrich determined to begin at once 
to rebuild his house. But there was no 
Orpheus at Hohenau to charm with magic 
the dead stones with sweet song to rise in 
their places and form once more the house in 
its proper dimensions ; but many hands were 
necessary to build the home by the little 
lake, and these many hands would not work 
for nothing, and so the next thing to be done 
was to look about for the capital needed for 
the undertaking. 

The Union would have gladly contributed 
out of its treasury a portion at least of the 
sum needed, but the drain upon it lately had 
been very great, and Ulrich himself was 
opposed to having any part of the fund, 
which had been so collected, disbursed for 
any object save those to which they had been 
originally devoted. He cast about on all 
sides for some answer to the important 
question. Nothing showed more fully the 
perfect simplicity and transpairency of the 


UNRECONCILED. 


165 


man’s character than the fact that one of the 
first persons to whom he thought of apply- 
ing was Mr. Breyer, the man whom he had 
met but a few days previous in such an en- 
counter. But this had all passed under the 
pressure of great feeling ; words had passed 
and actions ensued which he most heartily 
regretted. What more was necessary than 
to say so ; and having expressed his sorrow, 
why should not all be as amiable as hereto- 
fore ? But had it been amiable heretofore ? 
Had there been no reason that the manufac- 
turer should have been antagonistic to him, 
and was there any use in his applying to 
him for money, especially to such an amount 
as he should require ? Calmer consideration, 
whilst it prompted him to regret what had 
happened, justified him in his own mind for 
what he had done. And as for the manu- 
facturer, he thought most probably he had 
been annoyed about something when they 
met, and under such circumstances it was 
easy to yield to ill-temper. Ulrich deter- 
mined to make the attempt, at least; he 
would go to the manufacturer, and explain- 
ing everything ask him to help him in his 
strait; he knew well that if any one had 
come to liim similarly situated, that he 


166 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

would have gladly seized the opportunity to 
help him obliterate the unpleasant memories, 
and his noble heart in its simplicity could 
not understand how any one could feel other- 
wise. But after all his reasoning this was 
no light undertaking, and Ulrich was con- 
vinced of this as he set forth upon its 
accomplishment. He remembered how often 
he had knocked in vain upon the stony heart 
to which he was about to appeal, and liis 
steps grew slower and slower as he ap- 
proached the great, dark buildings. 

“ I will pay him a big rate of interest, 
perhaps that will influence him in my favor,” 
he murmured to himself, as he knocked upon 
the door. 

The blood, which usually flowed so quietly, 
rushed swiftly through his veins to-day, and 
he almost trembled as he stood waiting for 
admittance ; but he shook off what he felt to 
be an unworthy feeling, for why should he 
tremble ? He had not come to beg. 
And it was again the calm, composed Hof- 
bauer who stood in the presence of the 
master. 

Mr. Breyer was not alone, but sat with a 
visitor, the worthy counsellor who long 
since had pleaded the cause of the men so 


UNRECONCILED. 


167 


bravely and faithfully. Hijrerrand this time 
was a pleasant one, for he was the bearer of 
the coveted Cross of Honor which Mr. 
Breyer had so long and eagerly desired. He 
came fully imbued with the idea, that the 
honor was being rendered to one whom 
honor was due, and who had honestly earned 
it by the record he sustained with the labor- 
ing classes and his active, intelligent interest 
in the national industries. He brought it 
himself, for he knew it would give pleasure, 
and his kindly, sympathetic heart prompted 
him to be the witness of the joy he was able 
to give. Joy did indeed fill the haughty 
heart of the master when the announcement 
was made to him that he had at last won the 
dearest wish of his heart ; it had been the 
object of his unbounded ambition, for it he 
had toiled ; from the hope of its attainment 
nothing had turned him, either good or ill, 
and now it lay at his hand, but waiting his 
acceptance. But the proud heart gave no 
sign, no word fell from liis lips that betrayed 
his delight, and the order was received with 
the air of one who considered it as simply his 
due. The constrained air of politeness, com- 
bined with the assumption of perfect indif- 
ference, disappointed the good Hofrath, who 


168 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

had anticipated a far different reception for 
what he knew had been so eagerly awaited. 

When the Hofbauer entered the apartment 
the master glanced quickly and inquiringly 
up at him, but in an instant his eyes assumed 
that peculiar expression that held his work- 
men in such subjugation when he looked 
over their ranks. 

“ You see, sir,” he said, “ that at present I 
have no time for business, — for I judge you 
have come to me on some matter of busi- 
ness.” 

“ I beg, Mr. von Breyer, that you will not 
allow me to interfere with you,” said the 
Hofrath ; “ I will go for a walk through your 
pretty village. I have not paid my respects 
to the beautiful morning, though it is a fa- 
vorite custom of mine, which I never will- 
ingly omit.” 

The thoughtful gentleman rose, and, 
extending his hand towards Mr. Breyer with 
a cordial motion and nodding kindly to the 
Hofbauer, withdrew. The two men faced 
each other, as they had done so lately in the 
Pass; but the situation to-day was wholly 
different. Mr. Breyer motioned Ulrich to a 
seat, but the peasant remained standing. 

“ I hope you will pardon me for my be- 


UNRECONCILED, 


169 


havior to you the other day» Mr. Breyer,” he 
began; “I assure you I sincerely regret it, 
but I have all my life been too hot-headed . '' 

“ Was it simply to express your regret for 
this that brought you here to-day?’’ in- 
quired the man opposite to him, in scornful 
tone. 

“No, other concerns have influenced me as 
well.” 

The manufacturer rose and paced slowly 
up and down the long room, his footsteps 
falling noiselessly upon the soft carpet. He 
opened his lips once or twice as if about to 
interrupt the speaker, but seemed to recon- 
sider and remained silent. 

“You know,” continued Ulrich, “the blow 
which God has seen fit to let fall upon me. 
The house of my fathers has been burned to 
the ground, and unhappily I must lament the 
loss of all my accumulated possessions as 
well as all my year’s rents. Although the 
autumn is upon us, I have decided to begin 
rebuilding my house at once, even if it is 
only put under a temporary roof, which will 
suflice for this winter. But I need money to 
do this, and I have come to you, Mr. Breyer, 
to ask if you will lend it to me, and in my 
real estate you will find the surety of the re- 


170 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE 


payal of the money. Next autumn, if God 
grants us a good harvest, I will pay you one 
third, and in the following two years the 
other portions. If you will do this, you will 
help me in my great need, and I will pay you 
a high rate of interest for the sum you will 
advance.” 

The manufacturer had paused in his walk, 
and stood looking with his calm impenetrable 
gaze into the frank brown eyes of the peas- 
ant. 

“ And do you really think that I am the 
man whom you can treat to-day with gross 
rudeness and impudence, and come to-mor- 
row with, the modest request to take out my 
purse and lend you money ? Your need has 
broken your pride, but I fail to see the re- 
pentance.” 

“ I am too honest a man, sir, to lie, and if I 
come to you to-day and say that I regret 
having acted in a certain manner, it is be- 
cause I regret it, not that I have been driven 
to it by any other motive. I regret it be- 
cause my religion commands me to forswear 
anger and to become reconciled to our ene- 
mies.” 

“ I am sorry that I cannot enter into your 
pious sentiments; people say that I am 


UNRECONCILED. 


171 


proud and hard, perhaps I am; I certainly 
am no ])oy to play at anger, neither do I for- 
get readily. I still remember what happened 
in the Pass, therefore you will not be sur- 
prised that T decline to respond to your very 
modest request.” 

Ulrich was silent. His pride forbade fur- 
ther words, and he felt only too keenly how 
utterly vain any argument would be with 
one of the master’s well-known character. 
He bowed and took his leave without 
another word except the polite good-morning, 
to which Mr. Breyer made no response other 
than the vindictive smile that played around 
his lips as he watched the Hofbauer leave 
the room. Slowly Ulrich went through the 
village, his honest heart heavy within him. 
As he approached the inn, he was startled by 
wild cheers and cries which issued from the 
windows, and aimlessly and half-unconscious 
of his course, he entered the house and the 
room where the workmen of the factory were 
assembled. 


CHAPTER XL 


THE CATASTROPHE. 

you will wait till the fever is 
I among you again, till the pestilence 
rages that has already torn so many of you 
from your ranks, till you famish and starve 
and see your children die before you. You 
are men, but where is your manhood? You 
pollute your souls with curses against your 
oppressor; but you are cowards, you are 
afraid to raise your hands against him ! ” 

The voice rose hoarse and excited, and yet 
with the strange pathos of one who is con- 
scious that he is leading a forlorn hope, how- 
ever unworthy that hope may be ; the words 
were accompanied by wild gesticulations, and 
the little grey eyes twinkled and gleamed 
through the big spectacles ; it is Dr. Feigel, 
again, who has crawled out of his den and 
succeeded once more in winning the atten- 
tion of the workmen. From the little mouse- 
hole in which he had been so long a prisoner 


THE CATASTROPHE, 


173 


lie had watched the steady growth of their 
discontent, he had watched the hatred 
against the master intensify in the hearts of 
the poor, half-starved workmen, and knew 
that the time had at last come when but a 
word was needed to kindle the flame, and the 
dark halls of the tyrant would fall. The 
word had been spoken, — “ Cowards, you 
are afraid to raise your hands ! ” 

“ It was you who brought us to this mis- 
ery, it was you who advised us to quit our 
work, — we want to hear no more from you,” 
growled the poor men, scarce knowing 
whence or to whom to turn. But the word 
had stung them, the note which had long 
vibrated meaningless in their inner conscious- 
ness had struck, — and the word meant 
storm. 

“ I have advised you before, as a friend, 
what to do. I could not foresee all the 
results. To-day I speak to you again, as to 
men. ‘ Equality for all ’ is the motto I give 
you. Why should that man enjoy all life’s 
best gifts, whilst you wear out your lives in 
bondage and in want? He will not pay 
you for your honest labor enough to keep 
your souls and bodies together. He knows 
your needs, but what are they to him ? It is 


174 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


all one to him whether you live or die, a few 
more or less, what signifies that to this man ? 
There is room for you in the church-yard, 
but not in his factory. Your lives are your 
most valuable possession, you must save 
them for your wives and children ; but you 
cannot do it if the tyrant crushes it out of 
you. Equality for all! Stand together, 
raise your hard hands, storm the house, the 
room of this tyrant, and with your knives at 
his throat demand work or bread. Extreme 
cases demand extreme measures; you have 
begged, you have prayed, now fight I ” 

The words fell like fire-brands among the 
starving people, who were almost mad with 
the misery of their condition. Ulrich lis- 
tened in silence to the wild words, a strange 
feeling creeping into his heart the while ; he 
knew that that which they proposed doing 
was wrong, and in his soul he knew that it 
was his duty to do as he had always done 
before, — step in and call this mad dema-, 
gogue to a halt ; but the influence of the last 
interview with the manufacturer still bound 
him, and his soul was filled with bitterness. 
He said mechanically, “ It serves the man 
right.’’ But this did not satisfy him, and he 
felt as if he could no longer breathe the air 


THE CA TASTROPHE. 


176 


filled with the oaths and curses heaped upon 
the master and the wild plans formed for his 
destruction. He rose from the seat by the 
door which he had occupied almost unob- 
served and quietly withdrew himself from 
among the excited crowd. Slowly he passed 
through the thickly shaded avenue which led 
to the Prinzenhof, his soul tempest tossed by 
conflicting emotions. Here and there the 
dark rafters still smouldered, and the ruins 
lay a black, gloomy mass before him, the 
sad reminder of his once lovely home. The 
lake lay in its wonted calm, its shining blue 
mirror sparkling in the kiss of the sunlight ; 
a lonely water-fowl sent her mournful plaint 
from her nest among the reeds, and a solitary 
plover circled with its peculiar cry around 
the head of the lonely man, as he wandered 
sadly over the pathway which circled the 
lake. At last he sank in mournful thought 
upon a little bench which he had made for 
his daughter in the days of her happy child- 
hood, and placed here beneath the shadows 
of the alders. To-day, the spot that had 
once been the scene of his pride and joy was 
deserted and empty, but he heeded it not. 
Heart and head were full of painful thoughts 
and emotions. He could only think of the 


176 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


hard unforgiving man who had scorned his 
overtures of reconciliation ; he saw his proud 
face as he had seen it last in the beautiful 
room filled with choicest treasures of art, and 
the atmosphere redolent with the breath of 
flowers; he knew that the next day fresh 
honors would be heaped upon him by the 
world that was so dear to the hard, ambitious 
heart, the announcement having been made 
publicly in the village that the insignia of 
honor was to be formally presented in the 
presence of the men. 

But through all these thoughts and fancies 
the wild, pale faces of the desperate men he 
had just left at the “ Star ” would thrust 
themselves. He knew that this time the 
men were wrought up to a deadly earnest, 
and that, goaded by hunger and despair, they 
meant the worst. Should he, dared he, 
stand and look indifferently on? Was it not 
his bounden duty to interfere, to warn? 
But again, why should he trouble himself ? 
He had not incited the men to the deed ; it 
was no affair of his. If the darkest clouds 
burst over the head of the obdurate man, 
whose fault was it but his own ? “ He is 
tliine enemy, but do good to them that hate 
you, pray for them that despitefully use 


THE CATASTROPHE. 


177 


you ! ” These were the words, from wliich 
the gray-haired pastor had preached a sermon 
last Sunday, of such power and depth of 
genuine feeling, that two men in the village, 
who had been bitter enemies for years, for- 
getting no opportunity in all that time to 
injure each other, sought each other out and 
stood together before the little altar and 
clasped hands in forgiveness and reconcili- 
ation in the presence of the faithful man 
who had borne to them the message of love. 
All this passed through the mind of the per- 
plexed peasant, and even as he thought his 
feet led him away from the lake-side, through 
the shadowy old avenue and down the vil- 
lage street ; and ere he was aware he stood 
once more before the massive buildings 
which had been so often the scene of his dis- 
comfiture. 

Great excitement prevailed here; the 
sound of busy hammers filled the large 
court-yard, wheie large wreaths were being 
wound by busy hands, the grey walls green 
with festal garlands, and the entrance was 
spanned by a triumphal arch, the preparations 
for celebrating the next day. 

The tall, quiet man in his dark jacket 
passed through all the noisy commotion. 


178 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


scarce conscious of it, through the court, past 
the low cottages, now almost deserted, for 
Mr. Breyer had dismissed almost all of the 
strange workmen, as he had but little for any 
one to do, owing to the lessening demand for 
his work, and had not in fact the employment 
to give for which the men were clamoring. 
Slowly old Ulrich mounted the broad stone 
stairs for the second time that day, but this 
time with a quiet heart, for he carried a vic- 
tor in his heart, the victor over himself, and 
he had come to warn his enemy. The 
master lay stretched full length upon a 
luxurious sofa, indulging in happy dreams of 
the morrow and all that the day would bring 
to him. He slightly raised his head at the 
light tap upon the door, to see whom the 
intruder might be, and again resigned him- 
self to his comfortable position, with an 
indifferent, rather than angry countenance, 
when the Hofbauer again stood before him. 

“What is the matter now? It seems to 
me I am fated to being disturbed by you in 
any time that I am the most engaged, either 
in attending to my business or trying to get 
a little rest from its annoyances, as I am at 
present.” 

“ I am sorry,” Ulrich replied quietly. 


THE CATASTROPHE, 


179 


“ doubly sorry to disturb you in your rest, 
for I am the bearer of bad news. It has 
come at last, as come it had to. The needs 
of the poor men have made them desperate, 
and they have come to the limits of their 
endurance. They mean to take from you by 
force what you have not been willing to 
grant them peaceably.” 

“Very noble of you, upon my word, very 
noble,” sneered the manufacturer ; “ but, pray, 
do not think that I am the man to be scared 
by a handful of half-starved men, and, in- 
timidated by their threats, give in to their 
unreasonable demands ; nor that I will out of 
gratitude throw open my money-boxes and 
beg you to accept the amount you want as a 
reward for your friendly warning. Ha, ha, 
ha ! very clever of you, but I am not so 
easily caught.” 

Mr. Breyer laughed scornfully, and a dark 
flush spread over the cheek of the honest 
peasant as he replied : — 

“ I have meant well by you, sir, and have 
not deserved these hard words. 1 have done 
my duty by you, and I can do no more. The 
rest remains with yourself.” 

His hat trembled in the hand of the gal- 
lant old man, but he said no more, and 


180 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 


quietly left the room, and went through the 
festooned halls and gaily decorated court- 
yard, out once more into the village, while 
Mr. Breyer stretched himself at ease again 
upon his couch and watched the smoke of 
his cigar form itself slowly into rings, then 
fade away into nothingness. 

Twilight fell over the valley. The even- 
ing star hung in glittering splendor in the 
darkening sky, and in the east the full sil- 
very disk of the moon rose over the 
mountain peak, whilst in the west fleecy 
white clouds massed themselves into downy 
couches of rest into which she could sink 
after she had swept over her proud course 
and poured the soft effulgence of her light 
upon the earth, now wrapped in her dun- 
colored autumn vesture. Her silvery radi- 
ance fell upon the dark walls of the factory, 
lighting the wreaths here and there with 
points of glory and casting fresh loveliness 
over all, even throwing its spell of beauty 
upon the dark chimneys, that towered up- 
wards like swarthy sentinels, slender and 
still, gazing with their great, smoke-darkened 
eyes into the shining eyes of heaven as they 
gleamed in the dark blue vault, stealing 
gently forth where the sun’s waning light 
made way for their softer radiance. 


THE CATASTROPHE. 


181 


Ml. Breyer sat once more with his guest, 
in his handsome dining-room, at their even- 
ing meal, surrounded on all sides by all that 
nature and art could give to make the time 
an enjoyable one. The room itself was 
beautifully furnished, and an elaborate supper 
was spread upon a table laden down with 
costly china and heavy plate, brightened by 
exquisite flowers and lighted by wax candles 
in silver candelabra. It had not occurred to 
the master to consider further the warning 
given him by old Ulrich; he had, indeed, 
forgotten it as soon as the door closed upon 
the peasant. He had much else to think 
about, — his pressing business anxieties, as 
well as the gala-day to-morrow; but away 
with all anxiety, it should not disturb the 
vigil of such a festival ! 

The two gentlemen sat almost enveloped 
in the light blue clouds of their cigar smoke, 
thoroughly enjoying the happy hour. Poli- 
tics, commerce, the Bourse, and the theatre, 
subjects in all of which the Hofrath was per- 
fectly at home, passed in review before them. 
But without, before the gayly decked en- 
trance confused sounds of men's hoarse 
voices broke the sweet stillness of the night; 
dark figures passed to and fro in the heavy 


182 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


shadows cast by the high walls, and gradually 
formed themselves into one solid mass, whilst 
here and there darted a little Kobold in a 
short grey coat, apparently animated by great 
excitement and anxiety, urging, coaxing, 
threatening, first one, then another, as he 
thought the case required, and swinging a 
great cudgel vastly disproportionate to his 
size, to emphasize his pleas and threats. 

“We order him before the tribunal of the 
people,” cried the little man; “there is no 
other place for him ! We have come to help 
him celebrate his festival, and we will do it 
right royally. Hallo, there ! Open ! open ! 
open ! ” 

Therewith he struck three mighty blows 
upon the massive gates that must have re- 
called the awful summons of the old 
Fehmgericht to the startled master, so 
terrible were the effects upon him. In an 
instant the Hofbauer’s warning flashed 
through his mind, and his usually pale face 
grew grey with terror. Rising hastily, he 
went quickly to the window, which he raised 
with trembling hand, and tearing the curtains 
aside looked out into the night. The Hof- 
rath, of course, was at his side, and the two 
looked down upon the howling watch-dog 


THE CATASTROPHE. 


183 


and the mass of humanity that flung itself 
madly against the gates. Again the three 
blows thundered upon them. 

“ Open, or we will open the gates ourselves ! 
The time for our revenge has come.” 

The master lost all self-control, and clung 
trembling to the Hofrath’s arm. 

“Help me, help me, counsellor, I implore 
you ! They are the men that I discharged, 
because I had no work for them to do.” 

The pale features worked in abject terror, 
and the counsellor looked down for a mo- 
ment in silence upon the mob beneath them, 
and then upon the terror-stricken man at his 
side. 

“I will go down and speak to these 
people,” he said. “ They will doubtless hear 
reason.” 

Mr. Breyer, when left alone, sank down 
upon the sofa by the window and wrung 
his hands in frantic terror. Fain would he 
have prayed, but no words escaped his 
parched lips ; his eyes were riveted on the 
picture below him, he could see nothing else. 
The gates had yielded to the tremendous 
pressure of the crowd that had thrown itself 
bodily against them, and lay splintered and 
broken under the trampling feet, and the 


184 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 

men poured unhindered into the yard; for 
there was none to hinder or defend, not one 
to raise his voice to protect the owner of it 
all from the blind rage of the assailants, not 
one to lift a hand against the triumphant an- 
archists, except, indeed, the poor dog, who 
flew at them with unavailing prowess, but 
paid for his loyalty with his life ; and his 
master watched from above as the men 
vented their blind rage with blows of the 
great cudgel upon the poor animal, and 
listened helplessly to the dying moan of his 
faithful friend. Then for a moment all was 
still, and the counsellor’s voice rose clear and 
firm, and Mr. Breyer once more threw the 
window up, and leaned close to listen to his 
words ; he must hear all, and he must know 
whether the men heeded the commanding 
voice or not. The fearless man stood upon 
the steps of the house, and the men sur- 
rounded him upon all sides, his full, powerful 
voice and dauntless will evidently quelling 
them, for the moment at least. 

“ Friends, why do you disturb the peace of 
this house in tins riotous manner ? If you 
have claims to make, make them, but make 
them in such a way that they will deserve a 
just hearing and proper consideration.” 


THE CATASTROPHE. 


185 


Further he did not speak, for further the 
men would not hear. One of them had 
caught a glimpse of Mr. Breyer as he leaned 
against the window above, and a large 
stone spun through the air and crashed 
through the heavy plate of glass, which fell 
in a thousand pieces. Loud shrieks and 
threatening cries once more arose, as the 
men pressed as one body towards the house, 
and again the brave man barred the way, as 
he called in stentorian tone : — 

“ You enter that house only over my body, 
and any injury done to me will be dearly 
paid for.” 

Again the men were quiet before him as 
he stood, perfectly composed, his arms 
crossed upon his breast; but his air of com- 
mand and blazing eyes told them that ho 
was not one to be trifled with, even by a 
force like that now confronting him. 

This alone, however, would not have been 
sufficient to protect the manufacturer ; the 
men were mad with excitement, and had 
determined upon the worst, but another 
figure appeared upon the scene. Large and 
strong, with powerful shoulders and broad 
breast, the stalwart form of the Hofbauer 
suddenly stood in their midst. 


186 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

“So far, then, men, you have forgotten 
yourselves and have raised your hands 
against life and property, — you, the men of 
Hohenau, who have always been known as 
brave and honest, though poor. Since when 
have you taken such mode of action for your 
own?” 

“Do not allow yourselves to be turned 
aside now,” screamed the shrill voice of Dr. 
Feigel. “You need bread, not words; this 
man cannot give it to you, and the man in 
the house there will not, willingly, and you 
have a right to it, — so, forward ! ” 

The man’s face was flushed to deepest red, 
and he raised his club as a sign for the men 
to follow, when he was suddenly confronted 
by the Hofbauer, who took his position so 
close to him that he could scarcely raise his 
arm. 

“ Back, magistrate, your authority has 
ended ! ” roared Feigel ; and when Ulrich still 
stood by him undisturbed by his threats, 
the club in the hands of the enraged man 
fell with cruel force upon the venerable 
head. The tall form of the peasant tottered 
for a moment, swayed slowly from side to 
side, and sank, apparently lifeless, to the 
earth, like a mighty oak, striken by light- 


THE CATASTROPHE. 


187 


ning’s quick flash, trembles for an instant, 
then falls, prostrated by the annihilating 
power. The Hofrath sprang quickly to his 
side, and at the same instant a sharp cry 
from Dr. Feigel called the attention of all to 
him, where he lay prone upon the earth, 
overtaken by a power as deadly as heaven’s 
lightning; for nature had asserted herself, 
and the long pressure of intense excitement, 
intemperate habits, and want of proper food 
had at last worked out their deadly results, 
and their victim lay, his face purple, his 
teeth clenched, the dead hand still clutching 
in its vise-like grasp the massive cudgel, and 
the moon cast its trembling shadows over the 
glassy eyes that stared blankly upwards. 
The wild excitement that had prevailed a 
moment before was stilled instantly, as the 
men gathered around their dead leader, who 
lay side by side with the man who had 
indeed been their true and faithful friend, — 
the man who had counselled them wisely, 
but whose voice they had forgotten to follow 
in the lead of the one who was, in truth, 
their evil genius. The Ilofrath was kneeling 
by the side of the insensible Hofbauer, sup- 
porting the grey head tendeily in his arms ; 
sticks and cudgels had fallen from the hands 


188 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 

of the men, and many turned away with a 
silent shudder. Soon all had disappeared, 
but not before the Hof rath had said to 
them : — 

“ See the consequences of your rash deeds. 
You should think before you act, and if you 
have wrongs to be righted, go about it in 
a different way from this. You can rest 
assured your real wrongs shall be attended 
to.” 

By this time the court-yard was quite 
empty. The moon-light lay upon the ruins 
of the great gate-way, upon the bodies of the 
lifeless men and the remains of the faithful 
dog, and shone upon the good Hofbauer still 
supported by the Hofrath, and who now 
began to show signs of returning life. The 
tenified servants of the house now left its 
protecting walls, and bore brave old Ulrich 
within, into the room, indeed, where the mas- 
ter still sat, panic-stricken and trembling, 
and whence he had watched with speechless 
terror the developments in the court-yard 
below, looking down upon the man whom he 
had twice that day repulsed with irony and 
scorn defend him against the murderous 
assaults of his own people. At times he had 
sunk back almost lifeless on the couch, over- 


THE CA TASTROPHE. 189 

come by Ms unmanly cowardice, for he felt 
that notMng could stem the flood of un- 
bridled rage wMch ruled this mob. Every 
moment he expected to hear them thunder- 
ing up the stone staircase, and looked about 
him, in his abject, cowardly fear, for some 
hiding-place. 

But suddenly all was still in the court- 
yard ; he heard the clear, incisive voice of 
the Hofrath, though unable to distinguish 
the words, and once more he crept to the 
window. There he found that the men had 
gone, and he looked with shivering horror up- 
oji the ghastly face of the dead man, which 
lay in all its frightful distortion in bold re- 
lief under the full light of the moon. He 
watched two men stoop over the prostrate 
figure and bear it away, and at that instant 
the door of the room was thrown open, and 
the tall form of the Hofbauer was carried in 
and laid upon the sofa. 

“Are they all gone?” whispered Mr. 
Breyer in stifled tone. 

“ They are all gone,” the Hofrath replied, 
“ and here is the man you have to thank f or 
your salvation.” He was bending anxiously 
over the injured man, or he would have ob- 
served the deep flush wMch spread over Mr. 


190 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


Breyer’s pallid face. He sent for wine, 
bathed the peasant’s temples, and poured a 
strong, life-giving draught between his pale 
lips, the manufacturer gladly supplying 
everything in his power that could aid in his 
resuscitation. 

The night passed peacefully away, and the 
morning broke, a true festival morning ; but 
not with the glory that he had anticipated 
did the sun’s bright rays fall upon the man 
who had looked towards its dawn with such 
delight. The events of the past night had 
cast a deep shadow over his spirit ; he had to 
confess that he had been hard and tyrannical 
in his dealings with his employes, and unjust 
to the man who lay in the chamber above, 
enduring bitter pain for his sake. The phy- 
sician who was called in to attend Ulrich 
assured him that the wounds, though painful, 
were not dangerous, which was an immense 
relief to his mind. The Hof rath had a long 
and serious conversation with him, which, 
coming at this time when his spirit was so 
deeply moved by the bitter experiences of 
the past few hours, made a deep impression 
upon him. He promised to take the work- 
men back, though at another reduction of 
wages, and he himself resolved to offer to 


THE CA TASTROPHE. 


191 


the Hofbauer the sum of money for which 
he had asked the day before. This he did 
as soon as the wounded man was sufficiently 
restored to health to warrant the introduc- 
tion of the subject. 

“ I have done nothing to earn it,’* the 
peasant said, “ but for the sake of my child I 
will take the money.” 

The contract was made, and a certain sum 
placed to the Hofbauer’s credit, which 
Ulrich was to repay in certain amounts 
every year, and for which a good rate of 
interest was to be paid ; but against this no 
protest was made by the grateful peasant. 

Some time before the occurrence of these 
events, Mr. Breyer had sent Julius to a dis- 
tant city to arrange affairs which required 
the presence of one of the heads of the 
establishment. Unexpected complications 
arose, and tiresome details detained him a 
much longer time than he had anticipated 
upon leaving home, and prevented his return- 
ing in time for the great day upon which his 
father was to receive the medal that would 
entail the title of nobility upon the family, 
— the title that Dr. Feigel had long since be- 
stowed upon them. He had been far 
from contented in Hohenau since he had 


192 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


been convinced that Marie cared nothing for 
him, had, in fact, openly preferred another to 
him. He determined to drive all thought of 
her from his mind, and very gladly accepted 
his father’s proposition to leave the place, for 
a time at least. But a letter bore the news 
to him of the burning of the Prinzenhof, and 
the flames of love once more leaped high in 
his heart, kindled afresh by the tender com- 
passion he felt for her in her troubles. He 
found himself irresistibly drawn to the old 
home, and arrived there one glorious autumn 
evening, just in time to see a little company 
of people wending its way behind a plain 
black coffin slowly up the hill-side io the 
little church-yard, whence they bore to his 
last rest all that remained of Dr. Feigel, the 
one time town-clerk of the village of 
Hohenau. 


CHAPTER XII. 


DEVELOPMENTS. 

G reat activity prevailed on the banks 
of the lake. Teams of horses and 
spans of oxen went to and fro in the linden 
avenue, drawing stone, tile, lime, sand, and 
other materials for building. Here and 
there, up and down in every place, the tall 
figure of the Hofbauer was to be seen, man- 
aging, helping, directing, knowing well that 
under the eye of the master the men worked 
with redoubled energy. Henry was there 
also, faithful in his work, zealous and eager 
in his devotion to the Hofbauer’s interest. 
And why not ?. Again and again the words 
rang in his memory, “ When the Prinzenhof 
rises again, Marie shall be yours.” The 
word of the Hofbauer was as reliable as the 
earth upon which they built; this Henry 
knew, and he wished wings for the house, 
that it might the more readily rise from its 
foundations and the more speedily bear him 


194 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


to the attainment of the sweet aim for which 
he lived. For this reason his feet sped from 
point to point, eagerly his hands wrought 
the tasks given him, and all the more readily 
and quickly if the starlight of Marie’s dear 
e3^es shone upon him at his work. She came 
frequently to watch' the progress of the 
building, and tears often filled her .gentle 
eyes as they fell upon the ruins of the old 
house, so long her dearly-loved home, the 
spot where her cradle had stood. She re- 
called the happy scene of years gone b}", fair 
pictures once ^-eflected in the peaceful bosom 
of the beautiful lake. Then she would 
wander to its sloping hanks, and, seated upon 
the old mossy bench over which the alders 
j^et cast their sliadows, would forget the 
memories of the past in sweet dreams of the 
future. 

Winter stole upon the land, and white 
flakes fell upon the scarce covered buildings 
near to which Ulrich and his* daughter had 
accepted the hospitable offer of a friend, and 
found a home beneath his roof for the 
winter. Mr. von Breyer had also placed a 
house at the peasant’s disposal, which, how- 
ever, he had politely but firmly declined, 
much to the joy of Marie, who knew that 


DE VELOPMENTS, 


195 


this arrangement, if carried out, would ex- 
pose her to a very uncomfortable degree to 
Julius’ attention. Mr. von Breyer’s kindly 
overtures to the peasant were not so much 
to be attributed to the fact that he was 
grateful to him, or felt that he owed much to 
him who had almost received his death-blow 
from the hand of the leader of the rabble 
who had sought his blood, as the earnest 
prayers of his son, who used all his influ- 
ence to effect the arrangement whereby he 
felt that he could bring himself near to 
Marie. Mr. von Breyer could not refuse a 
request of his son. He watched with pleas- 
ure the marked change which had taken 
place in his entire deportment, his active 
interest in every department of their affairs, 
the faithful discharge of the most trifling 
duty. There was no one in the entire estab- 
lishment so industrious, and he thought now, 
well pleased, . that he should resign his 
business to one well calculated to carry it on, 
and add new lustre to the honorable name. 
He was, in fact, more than satisfied that 
Ulrich had declined liis offer. He could not 
eradicate the feeling of bitterness from his 
heart against one who had dared to lay 
hands upon him, and the memory that he 


196 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 


had so far forgotten himself as to strike a 
man so much older than he was himself, 
would, he knew, intensify into a deeper 
feeling of hate, if he were brought into 
closer contact with the man who had 
caused him to commit such an unjustifiable 
action. But shortly after his son’s return 
he found that fresh cause for anxiety awaited 
him in Julius’ again changed demeanor. He 
was silent and absent-minded, wrapt away 
from all present consideration in the con- 
templation of some subject of which he 
spoke to no one. Gradually he became less 
and less mindful of his business, and wan- 
dered aimlessly about the country, absorbed 
in but one thought, to which he turned with 
constant, despairing persistency, to one image 
alone, that of Marie, to the exclusion of all 
others. 

So long as the autumn permitted the 
work to go on, his feet bore him to the ruins 
of the Prinzenhof, where he often found 
Marie, and there he would stand, watching 
her at a distance, for he did not feel that he 
dared approach her more nearly. When he 
chanced to find Henry there also, and saw 
his eyes brighten at Marie’s approach, his 
own would darken with hatred for the man 


DE VEL O PATENTS. 


197 


— the son of a laborer — whom he had now 
to acknowledge as his successful rival. 
Julius’ disposition was one that rose against 
opposition or contradiction, one who con- 
sidered nothing a sacrifice, to the very loss of 
his soul, to gain the end which he desired ; 
but he wearied soon of what he had won, the 
glamour passed soon from what he had made 
his own, the charm failed after short enjoy- 
ment. 

He loved the gentle village girl but the 
more intensely that she received his ad- 
vances with such coldness, and at last 
repulsed him with such determination. He 
was not accustomed to this mode of treat- 
ment, he, the favorite of the fine ladies in 
the gayest circles at the capital, and perhaps 
had Marie given herself to him, he would 
have gathered the flower — most likely to 
have left it to wither and die. Marie whose 
fresh loveliness bloomed and flourished in 
the pure, free air of her home, would have 
surely pined and died in the unaccustomed 
splendor of the new home in the dark, old 
mansion. 

When the snow-flakes filled the wintry air, 
they fell often upon the feverish face of 
Julius Breyer, as he wandered like an un- 


198 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


easy spirit around the half-finished house 
destined to be the home of his heart’s idol. 
Again and again he would murmur to him- 
self : — 

“Why was I not born in a workman’s 
hut, and raised to follow the plough ? Then 
I could have earned my money by the work 
of my hands, my bread by the sweat of my 
brow. But no, — even then her father 
would not have consented, and neither would 
my father, especially now that he has been 
ennobled.” 

Then the unhappy man would turn slowly 
away, and returning to the factory, take his 
place at his desk and resume his work, but 
pale and listless, and with none of the 
interest which had for a time inspired liim. 
His nervous, unsettled habits and troubled 
mien attracted his father’s attention, who, in 
spite of his cold exterior and hardness to 
every one else, loved his son; he was his 
only child, and he had felt especially drawn 
towards him since he had watched him 
change from the thoughtless, good-for- 
nothing lad into the earnest, active man of 
business. He watched and waited for the 
time to come in which he could speak. 
Through the long, dark winter he patiently 


DE VELOPMENTS, 


199 


endured the young man’s freaks and whims 
and fitful moods, but when the spring sun- 
shine once more shone over the land, and no 
change in his son’s behavior indicated a 
quieter mind, he felt that the time had come ; 
he must learn the reason of this apparently 
unreasonable behavior. 

He had long cherished a plan, of which he 
had spoken to no one, to the accomplishment 
of which he now, since the attainment of the 
coveted “von,” devoted all his powers oi 
mind. He had neglected no opportunity, 
when his business had taken him beyond the 
narrow limits of Hohenau, to look critically 
at all the marriageable women whom he met, 
hoping to find a suitable wife for his son, one 
whose good disposition and natural capabili- 
ties would be calculated to make him happy, 
but who was also possessed of wealth and 
noble birth, which endowments would help 
to maintain the position for which he had so 
ardently labored. For love or affection he 
cared nothing, this man to whom money was 
God. Did this holy feeling come later, well 
and good; if not, they would be just as 
happy without it, had they but the one req- 
uisite, a goodly share of this world’s goods. 
Whether these very possessions might not 


200 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


arise a ghostly barrier between two young 
human hearts, which without this mighty 
power could have grown to know and love 
each other, — that was a condition of affairs 
he could not understand; he simply could 
not comprehend that material wealth was 
not all that was necessary for earthly happi- 
ness. 

His choice had fallen upon the daughter 
of the worthy Hofrath von Kaler, and in her 
he fancied that all these qualities and re- 
quirements were combined. She belonged to 
a noble family, and was rich even beyond his 
demands ; and the Hofrath, to whom he had 
confided his hopes, assured him of his own 
consent, and also that the impression which 
Julius had made upon his daughter when 
they had met in the capital had been by no 
means unfavorable. Of Julius’ consent Mr. 
Breyer did not doubt for one instant ; was it 
not all for the further development and 
establishment of their business, the aggran- 
dizement and enriching of their family ? He 
could not refuse. It was a very simple con- 
clusion to which he came and a very natural 
mistake that he made ; he had only reckoned 
in ignorance of one unknown, but most 
important factor, — that of Julius’ love for 
Marie. 


DE VEL OPMENTS. 


201 


He thought to arouse his son from the 
troubled, lethargic condition which had 
taken bodily possession of him, by the an- 
nouncement of this plan, and hoped to wake 
new thoughts and ambitions by the sugges- 
tion of a new and happier life. It was at the 
dinner-table he first broached the subject ; he 
began cautiously, touching lightly upon the 
necessity of a womanly hand in the direction 
of domestic affairs, even more, that of a lady 
of refinement and judgment ; he then went 
further, and said that as he proposed soon to 
divide the business and give J ulius one half 
of it in his own name, he saw no reason why 
his son should not set up his own hearth 
beneath the paternal roof, for he would be 
very happy to welcome a daughter there who 
would enliven the formal, quiet dinner and 
cheer the evening hours for both of them. 

His father’s words aroused a tumult of 
agitation in Julius’ heart; the graceful form 
of the Hofbauer’s lovely daughter sprung as 
if by magic call before his eyes, clothed in all 
the beauty with which his ardent love en- 
dowed her, for it was she alone whom he 
considered worthy of occupying the position 
his father’s words had just described. He 
felt that the decisive moment had come, — it 


202 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


was now or never, — and he would now 
speak and declare his love. He even 
thought for a moment, with all the fond 
conceit of a devoted lover, that perhaps his 
father had guessed his secret, and that this 
had all been but a prelude to the joyful 
announcement of his consent to his marriage 
with the choice of his heart. But, alas ! for 
his dream. His father’s sharp voice rudely 
roused him from the fond delusion. 

“ I have selected a wife for you, one who 
is blest with all that the heart of a reasonable 
man could ask.” 

Julius started as if a knife had pierced his 
heart; well did he know what were his 
father’s ideas as to what was necessary for 
a man’s happiness, the “ happiness ” to which 
he would doom him. 

“ I mean,” he heard the voice continue as 
if in a horrible dream, “the daughter of 
Hofrath von Kaler, one with whose position 
and wealth no fault can be found.” 

“ No, and one who has not her equal as a 
heartless coquette, whose love of flattery and 
vain display cannot be appeased,” responded 
Julius quickly. 

His father looked at him for a moment in 
silent astonishment, he had not expected a 
rebuff, least of all of such a character. 


DE VEL OP ME NTS. 


203 


r 


“No, never, never, will I marry Sophie 
von Kaler,” continued Julius after a mo- 
ments pause, in which his head had sunk 
despondently upon his hand. “I too have 
made a choice, father, and long, long have I 
carried a dear image in my heart. For love 
of it, for the fear that it never will be mine, 
my soul has become sorrowful, my face hag- 
gard. I could not have endured it much 
longer, I must have soon spoken, but your 
words to-day have unlocked my lips. I love 
her, and only the one I love, none other, will 
I ever lead to my home. I have given my 
word, and I am your son ; and you — you 
know you never break your word.” 

The tone was full of excitement, but the 
words were firm and left no doubt upon the 
mind of the hearer that they were spoken in 
the fulness of determination. The manu- 
facturer leaned eagerly forward and looked 
steadily into his son’s flashing eyes. 

“ May I have the honor of knowing who 
‘ she ’ is ? Respect your name, sir, and con- 
sider the honor due to our house,” he said in 
ironical tone. 

“ Marie, the daughter of the Hofbauer.” 

Mr. Breyer sank back in his chair, speech- 
less for the moment. 


204 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 

“This man again,*’ he groaned. “No, no, 
and yet again no ! A village girl, the 
daughter of a poor man ! No ! ” 

He had risen in his excitement and was 
pacing the room with long, rapid strides; 
Julius also had risen and stood before 
him, quietly enough now, for all excitement 
had died out of his manner, and he said in a 
low, firm voice : — 

“ Then, all 1 have to say is, that a mistress 
shall never rule here, and the name of Breyer 
must die. The firm may go to pieces, I will 
do nothing to support it. Why should I? 
What is life to me without her ? I will have 
a wife that I love were she a beggar, or I 
will have none at all. Blest with her, work 
would be a joy ; for her sake I have worked 
gladly, for her sake I have bent over my 
desk day and night, toiling with such joy 
and hope in my heart that I did not think it 
toil. Take that joy, that hope away from 
me, I work no more ; the house may fall, I 
stir no finger to hold it up.” 

Mr. von Breyer stood with blanched 
cheeks before liis son and faltered in a faint 
voice : — 

“No, — that you could not do ! ” 

The voice of the man to whom his business 


DE VEL 0PM ENTS. 


205 


was as the breath of life actually failed him 
as he looked at the young man, swept by 
the intensity of his feelings from what he 
considered all respect due to the most potent 
agency of life. Julius was awakened to 
pity as he in turn looked upon his father, 
and saw how deep the impression was which 
his excited speech had made upon him. 
Once more he became a suppliant, and con- 
tinued in softer tones : — 

“ Do not be hard upon me, father ; do not 
destroy my happiness with a rough hand, 
for all depends upon you. Only grant my 
prayer, and you will not regret it. If you only 
knew her ! She is so sweet, so lovely, and so 
good; you will find a true daughter in her 
tender care. Be merciful, father ! ’’ 

It was not so much the earnest words and 
appealing gestures of his son that moved 
him, as the echo of those threatening words 
that sounded like thunder in his ears and 
influenced him to say in gentler tone, pene- 
trated by a certain resignation : — 

“ And she loves you ? ” 

“ Of that I am not sure ; I have told her 
that I love her, but she is so pure, so chaste 
and modest, that she will give me no en- 
couragement, till she is assured that I wish 


206 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


to make her my wife, and until I can tell her 
that you will receive her as a daughter.” 

Once more Mr. von Breyer resumed his 
walk up and down the room ; it was a hard 
fight truly, that which was being fought in 
his breast; his son drew near the window 
and stood there looking out, mute and mo- 
tionless gazing over the beautiful hills and 
valleys, but seeing nothing, the wild tumult 
of his heart making him deaf and blind in its 
uncertainty as to whether he should hope or 
fear. At last his father approached him and 
said : — 

“ Let it rest as it is, Julius, until autumn, 
in the meantime I will inform myself 
thoroughly about this girl, and if she is all 
that you say she is I will arrange everything 
as you wish ; in the meantime, I hope to see 
you resume your former habits, and devote 
yourself to your business as you have done 
in the past.” 

“Gladly, gladly, my dear father, will I 
work ; I will be everything that you would 
have me be, with this hope to lead me on.” 

He lost no time proving the honesty of 
his words, and hastened to the counting- 
room, where from that hour he worked with 
a zeal hitherto unknown. His father 


DE VEL 0 PM ENTS, 


207 


watched him in astonishment, though silently; 
and sometimes the thought dawned upon the 
cold heart, usually so impervious to all such 
convictions, that there might be a higher, 
holier aim in life than that of doubling his 
bank account, a worthier object upon which 
to lavish life’s dearest energies than a 
money-box, and that one who could inspire 
such love must be possessed of qualities of a 
high and peculiar order. 

The Prinzenhof was at last completed. 
Mansion, barns, and stables stood ready for 
occupancy, and the clear rays of the sun 
shone upon the glittering grey roofs as if 
they too would rejoice with the good people, 
who came to-day to take possession of their 
home. The oxen, with wreathed horns, led 
the procession, and looked with great won- 
dering eyes at their new quarters as if 
absorbed in simple amazement, and the bells 
of the cows rang a harmonious welcome 
home to all. Two large wagons piled high 
with household effects followed, and then 
came the Hofbauer, whose honest brown eyes 
shone with pardonable pride and joy as he once 
more “ entered into his kingdom.” Faithful 
to the traditions of his family, which had de- 
scended from father to son, hq carried in his 


208 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


hand the little casket which contained the 
golden spur, the holy relic of his forefathers, 
which he cherished and protected as his 
dearest treasure; upon either side of him 
walked Henry and Marie. The new house 
was built, and Ulrich’s word had been given, 
and the heart of the young man beat high as 
he warmly pressed the hand of his betrothed 
in his ; soon she would be his wife. 

The walls of the buildings and doors of 
the stables were decked with wreaths and 
garlands, the old servants of the family, men 
and women, followed the happy procession, 
singing and huzzaing till the heavens rang ; 
it was a joyous home-coming. Even the 
waves of the lake shimmered and trembled as 
they reflected the image of the new home in 
the blue mirror, and the tall reeds whispered 
to each other that soon again Marie would 
be with them gathering lilies and grasses 
from the lake-side to weave into wreaths as 
her pure heart wove happy dreams of the 
beautiful future. 

One daj", soon after they were comfortably 
settled, the Hofbauer called Henry to him 
and said : — 

“ I promised you that when the new house 
was built I would give you my daughter. 


DE VEL 0 PM ENTS, 


209 


The house is built, and I will not break my 
word ; but T cannot give her to you yet. 
The Prinzenhof is not yet mine, for the money 
which built it is not repaid ; wait awhile,, till 
the greater portion, at least, is returned. It 
will not be long, for I hope to pay it all in 
two years, and then, — here is my hand upon 
it, — then she shall be yours.” 

The peasant gave Henry his hand, and 
though naturally a cloud fell upon the 
young man’s hopes, which had been so high, 
believing as he did that but a short time 
would elapse before he could call Marie his 
wife, still his confidence in the Hofbauer 
was perfect, and he would not allow himself 
to question his decisions. He clasped the 
strong hand so cordially given and declared 
himself satisfied. 

Midsummer came. The corn-fields rippled 
in golden waves around the Prinzenhof, and 
when the Hofbauer passed through the tall 
grain, all ready for the scythe, the heavy 
heads bent in the fulness of their fruition, 
and the corn flowers casting their gay dashes 
of coloring, red and blue, here and there, the 
good old man suveyed his lands with thank- 
ful, hopeful eyes, and, counting the profits 
of the promised harvest, rejoiced in the 


210 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

thought of how far it would lighten the 
burden of debt which lay so heavy upon him. 

One sultry, oppressive afternoon he re- 
turned home after one of these tours of 
inspection, and as he wiped the hot perspirar 
tion from his forehead he determined that 
the next day the corn should be cut. 
He stood by the window and looked anx- 
iously out upon the threatening sky, which 
hung a lifeless, leaden mass over the breath- 
less earth. Not a flower, not a blade of grass 
even, stirred; a strange, unearthly light 
glowed over the exhausted country, the song 
of bird was stilled, the air had died away, 
and a supernatural stillness reigned over all. 
The lake lay like a sheet of molten glass, 
and far in the distance dark clouds gathered 
around the horizon. Swiftly they mounted 
higher and higher in the hot heavens, spread- 
ing themselves on all sides, and like a great 
black mantle across the sky the edge of a 
dull, coppery color that carried fear to the 
heart of the experienced countryman who 
watched it to-day ; his sharp ears heard afar 
the rumble and roar, and he knew but too 
well what they presaged, — he knew that the 
chastening hand of the Lord was upon them. 
It was an awful scene, and the peasant stood 


DE VEL OP ME NTS. 


211 


with folded hands and prayed, “ Lord, have 
mercy upon us.” The waters of the lake 
began to curl, the reeds rustled, the slender 
alders bent, trembling and afraid, before the 
coming blast, and the storm, rushing upon 
its mighty wings, swept over the land, burst- 
ing in its temptuous fury over the beautiful 
Prinzenhof. 

Thunder rolled and lightning flashed; on 
the windows fell, sharp and icy, not rain, alas ! 
but hail. And the great stones rattled and 
dashed pitilessly, mercilessly down upon the 
beautiful, harvest-ripe fields. So the ele- 
ments raged for almost half an hour, and the 
peasant stood through it all by the window 
with folded hands, and prayed again and 
again, “ Lord, have mercy upon us.” Then 
a sea of fire swept before his eyes, and he 
started back, dazzled by its fierce power,. and 
leaned against the wall. Something had 
been struck, and very near him, by the light- 
ning, and the sparks still seemed to fly before 
his half-blinded eyes. But again, alas ! this 
was no seeming, for it was his new barn 
upon which the deadly flash had fallen, and 
the flames leaped and flashed before him, 
the shingles snapped and curled, and at one 
time all seemed lost. But a powerful enemy 


212 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

to the devouring element now gave its 
saving help ; the heavens opened, and such 
a torrent of rain fell upon the burning build- 
ing and met the hissing, fiery tongues, that 
soon left a cloud of smoke only as a sign of 
the conquered element. Gradually the rain 
ceased, only a drop falling now and then, 
like the tears of an exhausted child, here 
and there dimpling the smooth surface of 
the lake and widening circles in the water 
showing that rain still fell. Then the sun 
shone forth in all his might and glory, and a 
splendid double rainbow spanned the almost 
desolated Prinzenhof. 

The Hofbauer went about his house with 
sad and anxious heart, and after he inspected 
the injuries received here went forth into 
his fields,- — out where but one short hour 
ago . the nodding corn had beckoned to the 
reaper, who had responded all too quickly to 
the summons. Now destruction prevailed, 
the stately, swaying corn lay prone upon the 
earth, trampled and ruined as completely as 
if a host of wild huntsmen had swept over 
it with their destroying feet. Tears sprung 
to the old man’s eyes as he viewed the scene 
lately so rich with God’s blessing and happy 
hopes. But, though the dreams founded 


DE VEL OP ME NTS. 


213 


upon their promises were swept away, his 
trust in God was unshaken. ‘‘ The Lord 
gave, and the Lord taketh away, blessed be 
His holy name,” were the words with which 
he met his child, who hastened to meet him, 
her beautiful eyes suffused with tears and 
her heart sad with the burden of a hope that 
was to be again deferred.' 

The day was near when Ulrich’s note 
given to the manufacturer was due. He 
thought of it with a heavy heart, for it 
seemed impossible for him to present him- 
self before his creditor and tell him that he 
was unable to make the promised payment. 
And not to Mr. von Breyer alone must he 
break his word, this man whose word was 
like another’s bond, but his heart ached 
when he remembered the promise so sol- 
emnly given to his child and to Henrj^; but 
the hard pressure of circumstances was too 
much for him, and he had to yield. He 
spoke of the money due to Mr. von Breyer 
to John Kleemann who was once more work- 
ing at the factory, and they yoncluded to 
borrow the necessary sum from the Work- 
men’s Union, of which the pastor had been 
president since the fire. This corporation 
had thrived since the awful experiences of 


214 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


the night which the men spent in the courtr 
yard of the factory. They had learned 
wisdom there, a most salutary lesson, which 
was proven by their steady industry and 
frugal habits, what enabled them to save 
money, which was carefully deposited in the 
bank and carefully watched and re-invested 
by the faithful pastor. Though they could 
not spare the entire sum required, they de- 
clared themselves glad to devote as much 
as possible to help one , of their founders in 
his need, and one half was given with the 
understanding that it should be returned in 
one year’s time. 

With this amount the Hofbauer proceeded 
to Mr. Breyer’s office, to whom he presented 
it with a few dignified words, regretting his 
inability to keep his word in full, but prom- 
ising that when the next payment was due, 
he would meet his obligations in their 
entirety. Greatly to his surprise Mr. Breyer 
received him this time with a kindliness and 
consideration quite foreign to his usual 
deportment. Whether it was the scar that 
still shone upon the peasant’s brow, a re- 
minder of the night when he had so bravely 
defended the master, or whether another 
motive inspired the unwonted politeness, it 


DE VEL 0PM ENTS. 


216 


is not necessary to question. Enough that 
after he had placed the peasant under strong- 
est bonds to pay him in full the next pay- 
day, he expressed himself as quite satisfied. 

When Ulrich had bade him good- morning, 
and had turned to leave, Mr. Breyer recalled 
him with the words : — 

“There is another subject upon which I 
should like to speak to you.” 

His voice had a peculiar tone ; he spoke as 
one who drives his words from his lips ; and 
no wonder that voice and words were forced 
and constrained, for the struggle within was 
fierce before he could bring himself to stand 
a petitioner to the man upon whom he had 
•so often heaped obloquy and scorn. But he 
had promised his son to ariunge his marriage 
with the Hofbauer’s daughter, if her consent 
could be gained. He had fulfilled one part 
of his promise, he had learned much con- 
cerning her, had watched her unobserved, 
and had to* confess that so far as loveliness 
of person and purity of character went, his 
son’s choice had been a good one. But they 
did not correspond with his ideas of what a 
wife should be, for a titled name and large 
dowry were to him the necessary qualifica- 
tions. 


216 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 

“ You have a daughter,” he proceeded in 
the same constrained tone in which he had 
begun to speak. “ She is, I hear upon all 
sides, a lovely girl, who has fairly won the 
name of ‘ Village Angel ’ by which she is 
known. I have learned all this about her 
with an object, for — I will say it in as few 
words as possible — my son wishes to marry 
her. It is not necessary for me to point 
out the advantages for you all to be derived 
from this connection, or to tell you how de- 
sirable it is for your daughter, a simple 
country girl, to be united in marriage with 
my son.” 

The master paused, fully expecting the 
peasant to respond by a quick and cordial 
acceptance of his proposal, instead of which 
he replied with usual calm manner and delib- 
erate utterance : — 

“You have called my child a simple 
country girl, and you are right, for that is 
what she is, and for this very reason she is 
not the wife your son should choose. One 
should not transplant field flowers into hot- 
houses, where they too often fade and 
wither away ; they flourish best in their 
native soil, and they pine and die in closer 
air, sometimes, too, for want of the care 


DR VEL OPMEi^TS. 


217 


which is not given them by those who do 
not know their needs, and sometimes neglect 
them because they are only flowers from the 
fields. I have, besides, given my child to 
one in her own position in life, — to one who 
^will be the prop and stay of my old age. 
My son-in-law will undertake the entire care 
of the Prinzenhof, ajid as God has denied me 
sons of my own, he will be a son to me, and 
care for me when I am no longer able to take 
care of myself. But I beg that you will not 
think me ungrateful, Mr. von Breyer, that I 
must decline your most gracious offer.” 

Truly, this was a terrible blow to the 
arrogant man who listened in silence and 
with divided sentiments to the simple speech 
of the old peasant. On one side his pride 
was deeply wounded by the refusal of the 
offer he had made, on the other he was 
heartily rejoiced that this connection which 
was so hateful to him was not to be: All 
this, however, the man of the world cleverly 
disguised, and replied in formal, courteous 
phrase : — 

“ He was sorry, regretted extremely that 
closer bonds were not to unite him more 
closely with one whom all respected, and to 
whom he personally owed so much,” etc.. 


218 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


and then, excusing himself upon the plea of 
pressing business, he withdrew, leaving 
Ulrich to take his way homeward. Simple 
though the old man was, he was shrewd 
enough to suspect that this was not the end 
of all, and he had food enough for thought, 
as he slowly retraced his steps through the 
shady old linden avenue to his home. 


CHAPTER XIIL 


THE AUCTION. 

M r. BREYERlost no time in communi- 
cating the result of his interview with 
old Ulrich to his son ; the young man 
listened in silence, then turned and left the 
house without a word, his face pallid and 
drawn as one who had lived years in 
seconds. His sweet dream was ended, the 
bonds that held him to life, or that which 
meant life to him, were broken; the light 
which led him onward, and which had been 
a lamp to his feet, was extinguished, and 
gladly at that moment would he have wel- 
comed the assassin’s knife. A bitterness 
against the whole human race filled his 
heart. He avoided every one, acknowledged 
no greeting, and hated one with an intensity 
which was alone enough to embitter a whole 
life, and this one was of course Henry, the 
son of the poor laborer and the successful 
rival of the rich man. The old melancholy 


220 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 


once more took possession of him ; his duties 
were first neglected, then attended to by fits 
and starts, and at last even a pretence of 
work was given up. 

His father watched him with constantly 
increasing anxiety, and sought by every 
means in his power to comfort, to cheer, to 
console ; but all in vain. To all his efforts 
Julius made but the one response, in tones of 
hopeless despair : — 

“ For whom should I work ? For myself, 
a lonely, heart-broken man ? ” 

Time passed ; winter, following the 
eternal laws of nature, covered the green 
earth with its snowy mantle and held the 
brooks and the watercourses in his glittering 
fetters, till the jocund spring, forever young 
and joyous, had rung afar the bells of glad- 
ness which told of his coming, and at their 
call the ice-bonds burst and tiny buds raised 
their heads over all the land. Then came 
the summer, that ardent fellow, and this 
year he showed no mercy in the terror of his 
reign. Week after week the sun hung in 
the heavens, pouring his pitiless rays down 
upon the helpless earth. The prayers of the 
suffering people went up unceasingly ; but 
no prophet called, as in Ahab’s time, and won 


THE AUCTION. 


221 


the life-giving moisture in answer to his 
prayer. The grass withered away or cov- 
ered the earth with its burnt-out roots, the 
fruits of the fields withered and died, and 
when the time came for the gathering in of 
the harvests, the tall corn stood straight, no 
full ears bending their heads toward the 
earth,ladened with the rich burden of ripened 
grain, and the farmers knew then that no 
return would be granted them in return for 
the labors of the past year. 

The time had again come when the note 
was due for the payment of ' the* second por- 
tion of the Hofbauer’s debt, and he knew 
that this time his creditor would be exacting 
to the last farthing. He was onlj^ prepared 
to pay a portion of the amount, and that 
portion he felt must be returned to the 
treasury of the Workmen’s Union. He 
would have considered it a grievous sin to 
leave the poor men to sulfer for that which 
he owed them, especially as many of them 
were at this time again without work. The 
manufacturer had indeed been obliged to 
dismiss many of his employes on account of 
steadily increasing depression in his business, 
and his usually smooth brow was often 
ruffled and his calm eyes, usually so impene- 


222 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


trable, showed signs of anxiety and troubled 
thought. This time it was not his fault 
that the people were in need, and it was a 
time in which the Hofbauer felt that he had 
no choice as to which debtor he should pay, 
and he carried it, unhesitatingly and un- 
mindful of all possible consequences, to the 
clergyman, and received from him his 
receipt in full. The good man was quite 
aware how hard it was for the peasant to 
pay this amount at this time, but he had no 
authority to prolong the time of the loan; 
the money was not his, he but held it in 
trust, and no one knew better than he how 
much the money was needed by the man at 
this very time. Never, more clearly than at 
this season, did all realize how great was 
the blessing of this confederation which had 
been created by the noble man, and which at 
this time saved them from many a pang of 
hunger. 

But for brave old Ulrich’s wants its 
capabilities were not equal. The magnitude 
of his misfortunes seemed to bewilder him, 
and he knew not whence to turn. Once he 
thought he would go to Mr. Frederick, but 
gave up the idea, he scarce knew why. 
From the pastor’s house he took once more 


THE AUCTIOH. 


223 


the well-known path to the factory. He waa 
no longer the erect, stalwart man of old; 
he had aged sadly in a short time, and his 
stooping figure, the snowy hair, the lines 
that sorrow had ploughed so deep across his 
brow, showed plainly how these griefs had 
weighed upon him; and the drooping, sor- 
rowful eyes that had once looked upon the 
world so kindly with such frank, honest en- 
joyment of all it yielded to him, told an 
eloquent tale of patiently borne grief. It 
was a most unfortunate moment, that which 
he chose for his meeting with Mr. Breyer. 
Only an hour before the Hofbauer stood 
before him the manufacturer had received 
a message telling him that a house upon 
which he largely depended to tide him over 
this critical time had failed, and this, added 
to his daily increasing anxiety as to the 
miserable, apathetic condition into which 
his son was steadily sinking, united with 
the realization that it was caused by the 
Hofbauer’s negative answer to the prop- 
osition of his son’s marriage with his 
daughter, naturally prepared him to receive 
Ulrich and his plea for further indulgence in 
any but a conciliatory temper. He listened 
to the peasant’s statement without inter- 


!224 T^E ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


ruption, and at its close replied with liis 
coldest, most incisive tone : — 

“I need my money, sir; it is imperative 
that I should have it all at once, and if you 
are not prepared to give it to me, the law 
must take its course.” 

Ulrich heard as one in a dream ; not even 
the pain at his heart, which the words of the 
master carried there, roused him. He re- 
peated the words softly to himself, “the 
law must take its course ! ” That meant, — 
what did that mean ? Oh, Father in heaven ! 
it meant that his home and the home of his 
fathers was to be his no more ; that he and 
his child, his dear, tender child, must be 
turned from house and home and wander 
forth into the wide world, leaving all that 
they held dear to strangers, — leaving “the 
law to take its course.” And yet more. 
What of the hopes of this dear child and her 
bright dreams of the future which had risen 
so joyously before her ? He had betrothed 
these two, he had encouraged them, he had 
rejoiced in their joy, and now, destitute and 
penniless, he had no dower to give his 
daughter upon her wedding day. 

His heart bled as he looked into the bright 
blue eyes that had always been his joy and 


TflE At^GTEON. 


225 


prid^, i^iid hid voice trembled when he told 
hei" the hard^ bitter truth, — how he was 
Unable to meet his obligations, and all the 
dreadful consequences the failure so to do 
entailed upon them ; how she must leave 
the dear home and wander far from the lake- 
side which she loved so well, to find far 
away in some humble, peasant home the 
only shelter that the trifling remains of what 
had once been such a goodly fortune could 
provide for her. 

The once strong man leaned helpless and 
undone against the frail girl^ who rose 
ready and equal to bear the burden so unex- 
pectedly put upon her. She had been called 
the “ Angel of the Village ; ” she proved her- 
self to-day her father’s good angel as well. If 
her own heart trembled and sank, made 
desolate by the death of the hopes she had 
so fondly cherished, she made no sign as she 
listened to her father’s despairing words. 
The strong, sweet spirit of womanhood rose 
within her, she whispered loving words of 
comfort to him, and stroking his furrowed 
cheeks with gentle, caressing fingers she 
kissed the troubled brow and begged him 
not to fret on h.er account ; she would be 
happy in the humblest hut, were they but 
together. 


226 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


It was a. terrible grief, she knew; but if the 
hand of the Lord bore the burden of sorrow 
to the stricken one, it meant that it was to 
be endured patiently for His sake. And so 
she comforted him. The heart-broken man 
looked in his anguish into the sweet, faith- 
ful eyes of his daughter, and, clasping her 
to his heart, felt that so long as she was 
spared to him he was not forsaken. If aU 
else were taken from him, his dearest, best 
treasure was left so long as his child was 
with him. He would be patient, and wait 
calmly for the day when “the law would 
take its course.” 

Tliis dreaded day came at last. Once 
again a grey sky hung over Hohenau, and 
wind-swept clouds cast their dark shadows 
over hearts and homes, for all sympathized 
with the good man in his sad experience, 
who had always been such a faithful friend 
to them. His own spirit was heavy within 
him. 

In the large sitting-room of the house a 
tall, gaunt man sat at one end of the long 
oak table, with a large sheet of paper un- 
folded before him, who called in loud, harsh 
tones, in the name of the law, for the highest 
bidder of the Prinzenhof, — the auctioneer, 


THE AUCTION. 


227 


who, in response to the manufacturer’s 
bidding, ]md come to see that the law should 
take its proper course. 

Within, the house was crowded with peo- 
ple, drawn thither by various motives, some 
through curiosity, some who wished to buy. 
But without, by the still waters of the lake, 
stood the unhappy man who had once been 
the happy owner of the place. Well was it 
for him that he could turn a deaf ear to the 
loud calls which would have told liim of the 
law’s cruel course, and that he could hearken 
to the voice of God which bade him trust 
in Him though all else might forsake him. 
Naught else but this holy voice could have 
held him back from ending his wretched 
life beneath the waters of the lake, which 
spread themselves so cool, so restful, so 
temptingly at his feet. But God reigned 
above; his faithful child stood close by his 
side, and with tender love drew him gently 
to a resting-place on the mossy bench be- 
neath the alders. 

In the mean time the voice of the auc- 
tioneer echoed through the halls no longer 
his : — 

“The court, together with the stables, 
barns, and other real estate, — ten thousand 
florins.” 


22S THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


“ And one hundred florins,” responded a 
phlegmatic voice from a corner of the room. 

“ And five hundred florins,” bid a strong 
voice with Jewish accent. 

“And two hundred florins.” The cold, 
calculating tone is not difficult to recognize, 
it belongs to the tall man dressed in a dark 
suit of clothes, from whose wan face shine a 
pair of pale blue eyes, whose glance we have 
already met ; it is Mr. von Breyer. He ap- 
peared to-day as the largest, probably only, 
creditor of the estate ; for besides the mort- 
gage the debts were but trifles, and he felt 
assured that no one would out-bid him. 

The auction proceeded; and the bids 
amounted to thirteen thousand florins. Mr. 
Breyer was the highest bidder; one after 
another had dropped off, the Jew only dared 
an additional “ ten florins ” in a hesitating 
voice, but the manufacturer speedily routed 
him with a sharp — 

“ And one hundred florins.” 

“Thirteen thousand one hundred florins 
for the first time, thirteen thousand one 
hundred for the second time,” shouted the 
auctioneer ; “ does no one bid higher ? ” he 
raised his hammer and — 

“ Fourteen thousand,” rang out in a clear. 


THE. AUCTIOHr 229 

manly voice from the door- way, where a 
young man stood dressed in a handsome 
travelling costume which suited well the 
bright, attractive face and fine dark eyes 
which looked with such eager interest over 
the animated scene befoie him. All present 
looked in deepest amazement at the new- 
comer, the manufacturer especially measur- 
ing him superciliously with his eyes as if he 
belonged to him. The young man was quite 
undisturbed by the commotion roused by his 
unexpected appearance, and, as soon as it 
had in a measure subsided, drew a chair near 
to the auctioneer in rather a pronounced 
manner, upon which he seated himself with 
an air of perfect indifference. A somewhat 
scornful smile curved his lips for a moment 
as his eyes fell upon Mr. von Breyer, whom 
he seemed to recognize at once as his oppo- 
nent, and repaid his supercilious glances in 
kind, drawing a handsome lorgnette from 
the breast pocket of his coat and looking 
through it with such a fixed gaze upon the 
manufacturer that he involuntarily turned 
his eyes away. The auction again pro- 
ceeded. The manufacturer bid sixteen 
thousand florins, the young man added 
another hundred ; Mi’* Breyer moved uneasily 


230 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


' upon his chair, then approaching the officer 
said a few words to him in a low voice. 
The auctioneer turned to the stranger and 
said in a business-like way : — 

“ Pardon me, sir, but the law requires that 
any one who takes part in an auction must 
pr^)duce his references. Will you be good 
enough to show me yours ? ” 

“Oh, with the greatest pleasure,” replied 
the young man, who in the mean time had 
lighted a cigar. He drew a folded paper 
from the breast pocket of his coat, which he 
handed to the auctioneer with a nonchalant 
air and cool assurance of a thorough man of 
the world. “ You will find in this that I am 
acting as proxy for one who has given me 
full power of attorney. I think you will find 
the credentials quite satisfactory.” 

The auctioneer glanced over the paper and 
returned it without remark to its owner ; to 
Mr. Breyer he said, with an expressive shrug 
of the shoulders : — 

“ All right in that quarter.” 

“ Sixteen thousand florins ! ” 

Mr. Breyer thought no one would exceed 
this, but to his astonishment one hundred 
florins was promptly added by his opponent. 
The manufacturer hesitated for a moment, 


THE AUCTION. 


231 


but - the hammer was lifted again and the 
amount was raised five hundred florins. A 
light puff of cigar smoke floated from the 
lips of the younger man as he called : — 

“ Eighteen thousand florins.” 

It seemed almost too much for Mr. 
Breyer’s composure for a moment, but 
quickly recovering himself he bid — 

“Nineteen thousand florins,” with such 
an air of determination that he hoped would 
finally intimidate his adversary. But with 
the same equanimity that marked his manner 
when he made his first bid, the young man 
called: — 

“ Twenty thousand florins.” 

Further than this Mr. Breyer did not go. 
The auctioneer shouted out the amount for 
which the place had gone, the hammer fell, 
and the fair Prinzenhof had passed into the 
hands of strangers. 

“ Why did you not bid higher, Mr. von 
Breyer ? It was worth more. To be sure, it 
would not have been worth while, for I was 
enpowered by my uncle to bid it in at any 
price. I can confess to that now.” 

Mr. von Breyer murmured some unintellb 
gible congratulations, and with a hasty good- 
morning left the scene of his defeat. Henry 


282 THE ANQBL OR THE VILLAGE. 


had been present during the. entire time 
watching the proceedings with a sadly aching 
heart, and now hastened from the room that 
he might find the Ilofbauer and his daughter, 
and be the first to tell them of the result of 
the sale. He knew that the peasant would 
not be far from the scene which was fraught 
with such deep though painful interest, and 
found him seated on the mossy bench by the 
lake-side, his daughter's hand clasped closely 
in his, as if he would cling to the sweet angel 
through whose gentle ministrations he had 
won to the peace of God. 

He watched Henry as he approached, and 
waited his nearer coming, quite prepared for 
the announcement that the Prinzenhof was 
the property of Mr. von Breyer. His aston- 
ishment was great and almost savored of joy 
when he learned that, instead of Mr. von 
Breyer, good old Mr. Frederick was the 
owner. All that this meant flashed in one 
thought through the mind of the man so 
lately almost prostrated by grief and hope- 
less sorrow. He knew Mr. Frederick well, 
and kncAV that under his wise and gentle 
sway the beautiful home of his fathers 
would be well cared for, its requirements 
wisely administered, and further, that if he 


THE AUCTION. 233 

were blest with better days the opportunity 
would be given him to redeem his ancestra.1 
home for his child. It, was as if a new 
star had risen in the heavens, promising life, 
and hope, and peace; and unconsciously the 
bowed head was raised, the stooping figuro 
straightened itself, and it was the Ulrich of 
old who proceeded to the Prinzenhof to greet 
the ambassador of the new owner, and to tell 
him that he did not grudge his new possesi- 
sion to his beloved and honored relative. 

The young man met him half way with 
outstretched hand and kindliest expressions 
of regard. 

“My uncle sends you a thousand greetr 
ings, Hofbauer ; he has not forgotten you 
nor his god-child, Marie, much less dear old 
Hohenau to which his heart turns and where 
he would once more find a home. Do noi; 
think that you will be called upon to leave 
the Prinzenhof. As soon as my uncle heard 
of the trouble which befell you, he sent me 
upon a threefold errand ; first, to assure you 
that 3 mur old friend would have been ready 
to render you any service you required, for 
he is not a blood-sucker like that man whose 
avarice and greed has absorbed your means ; 
secondly, to buy the Hof at any cost ; and, 


234 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


thirdly, to beg you as a personal favor to him 
to continue at the head of the establishment, 
administering its affairs according to your 
life-long custom, as he no longer feels equal 
to so great an undertaking. Further details 
can no doubt be comfortably arranged at your 
leisure. My uncle makes but one request, 
which I do not think you will refuse ; he 
would like to reserve a couple of rooms at the 
Prinzenhof for himself, in order that he may 
be one of your household. You know him 
well, Ulrich, and know that he is one whose 
presence never fails to bring joy, and I 
scarcely think you will find it in your heart 
to say no to his wish.” 

Tears blinded the eyes of the grateful 
listener. He need not leave the Prinzenhof. 
This glad thought filled his heart to the ex- 
clusion of all other sentiments for the 
moment. Then the realization came to him 
as to why he must not leave it, and to whom 
he was indebted for the blessed permission 
to remain, and he clasped the young man’s 
hand in his with a clasp that spoke volumes. 
His emotion forbade other utterance, but the 
eloquence of that hand-clasp was enough. 
The terms were accepted. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


THE FALL OF THE HOUSE. 

HE snow was melting high up on the 



1 mountain’s sides, mountain streams 
had burst their icy prisons and swept all 
before them, the turbulent water overflowed 
their accustomed banks and destruction 
followed in their course. It was the time 
when winter fought for every stdp of his 
dominion : but the valiant young spring was 
stronger than the grey, old winter, who must 
yield at last, and birds and flowers proclaimed 
with song and blossom the joyous victory. 

But in Mr. von Breyer’s household was no 
sign of the happy season. The master’s 
brow was dark, for his heart was sad; and 
Julius went silently to and fro, with droop- 
ing head and heavy footsteps, which told of 
the gloom that pervaded his soul. Fresh 
cause for anxiety about their financial 
affairs was not lacking either, powerful 
houses were falling daily, and the house of 


236 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE 


Breyer & Son stood upon tottering feet. 
The men were again discharged, the looms 
were silent, no sign of the wonted industry 
and activity aroused the old house from the 
lethargy that had fallen upon it like a spell. 

The workmen now fully appreciated the 
benefits of the Union, and blessed the beloved 
pastor whose benevolent heart and clever 
head had devised the means whose beneficial 
results were now being so satisfactorily 
proven. Its financial condition was most 
satisfactory. Mr. Frederick, who had ar- 
rived and taken up his abode at the Prinzen- 
hof as one of Ulrich’s family, not as master 
and owner of the estate, was a liberal 
contributor and staunch supporter of the 
concern. He at once deposited a large sum 
in their bank, and encouraged the workmen 
to develop it in every way. 

Julius became daily paler and thinner, 
daily more silent and moody ; he did not 
even make a pretence of work now, but 
spent his entire time wandering about the 
surrounding country. His condition was 
a terrible grief to his unhappy father, and, in 
conjunction with the alarming condition of 
his financial affairs, added many an anxious 
line to his already furrowed brow. The 


THR Jfi'ALL OF The HOUSE. 


237 


young man scarcely opened his lips to speak 
to any one^ but brooded constantly over his 
rejected love till he seemed possessed by 
a dumb despair. His eyes, sunken in his 
head, were dull and lifeless, except at times 
when a wild, unsteady fire shone from them, 
boding ill for those who might stand in his 
way, as well as for his own unhappy self. 
This was always the case when he came 
across Henry in his wanderings ; his hands 
would clench involuntarily together, and fire 
flash from his dark eyes, which would shine 
as those of a beast of prey ready to spring 
upon its spoil. 

The low, rolling hills which surround 
Hohenau, are the foot-spurs of a lofty range 
of mountains, and the country rises grad- 
ually but steadily on all sides from the 
village, at a short distance from which the 
high pines and towering firs form a dense, in 
places almost impenetrable, forest. Rank 
bush weeds and tall ferns cover the ground, 
and here and there massive boulders lie in 
great heaps, and mountain torrents dash 
against the mossy banks over the glittering 
pebbles and shining spar. The path through 
the woods is but seldom used except by the 
foresters and wood-cutters, who have trodden 


238 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


the path connecting Hohenau and a smaller 
neighboring village. A brawling mountain- 
brook crosses this narrow path, spanned by 
one narrow plank which serves as bridge for 
the few who come this way. Ordinarily it 
is a gay little stream, that sings and pouts 
its way with pleasant song, its monotone 
broken only here and there as it leaps in 
little cascades over its pebbly bed; but on 
the day of which we write it was swollen 
even with its banks, and far in the distance 
the mighty roar of rushing waters told of the 
torrents which were falling higher up in the 
mountain ravines and in the deeper recesses 
of the wood. Swamp and moorland made 
the spot desolate, and its wild beauty was 
avoided by the people of the neighborhood, 
who, when obliged to go between Hohenau 
and the little village, preferred taking three- 
quarters of an hour for their journey, and 
thus avoid this lonely spot by traversing the 
more circuitous route of the highway. 

To-day a lonely figure wandered here and 
there through this lonely solitude, one 
evidently moved by a strange agitation 
which pervaded mind and body, and who, 
unconscious of the drizzling rain, hastened 
from point to point in feverish haste, until at 


THE FALL OF THE HOUSE. 239 

last he reached the little foot-bridge. Here 
he paused, and bending over the slender 
plank seemed possessed by a desire to know 
whether he could move it from the spot 
where it had lain so long. He seemed satis- 
fied with the results of his efforts, and as he 
raised himself once more erect a demonical 
laugh burst from the pale lips and the light 
of madness shone from the glittering eyes. 
He withdrew into the shadow of a tall pine 
and waited, his eyes fastened to the little 
bridge with the intensity of one who knows 
but one idea and is driven by it. 

This was the way his enemy, his rival, 
must come; for with all the craftiness of 
a madman he had informed himself of 
Henry’s movements, and to-night he would 
cross the little bridge for the last time. Of 
all the wandering fancies that floated 
through the clouded brain of the distraught 
man, but one remained fixed, — he must kill 
Henry ! His evil spirit commanded him to 
do so, it told him it was a most meritorious 
action ; for Marie, the gentle, refined girl, 
could never be happy with this man ; and he, 
Julius, must save her from her fate. And 
so he waited till the day darkened into twi- 
light gloom ; the tossing, sighing pines and 


Mo THE A MEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


the deep roar of distant cataracts joined in 
solemn requiem ; no star shone in the dark 
•vault above, where the moon struggled fit- 
fully to free herself from the dark masses of 
clouds, which parted but to meet again and 
cast the deeper shadow over the landscape. 

Motionless, as if formed of stone, but a fire 
raging within him^ Julius stood but half- 
concealed behind the fir-tree ; will-o’-the 
wisps danced over the black turf, whirling 
in bewildering maze, then ghost-like vanish- 
ing into the recesses of the forest, where the 
phosphorescent stems of decayed willows 
and pines gleamed and glowed as if beck- 
oning yet warning the solitary watcher, for 
he for whom he watched came not. 

But at last a gay whistle was heard 
through the deep shadows, a merry tune 
from the lips of the light-hearted Henry, 
who was hastening home by his accustomed 
route, unsuspicious of the danger which 
waited his footsteps. He drew near to the 
little bridge, one foot was already upon the 
frail plank when he perceived the dark 
figure which had emerged from its hiding- 
place and stood upon the opposite end. 
Startled by the sudden apparition, Henry 
sprang involuntarily backward, and at the 


THE FALL OF THE HOUSE. 241 

same instant, so quickly that to this day he 
cannot say how it happened, the plank 
slipped from its loosened mooring and was 
floated down the rushing waters, and at the 
same moment the slender figure of the man 
was drawn by the eddying torrent out of the 
sight of the horror-stricken gaze of the on- 
looker. 

Henry stood speechless and horror-stricken 
before the awful sight ; he heard the despair- 
ing, deathly cry, the rush of the whirling 
waters and the roar of the cataracts from 
afar, and was powerless to help. Julius 
must have slipped upon damp moss and lost 
his presence of mind, and as he had loosened 
the little bridge from its foundation there 
was nothing to resist his fall, and so he was 
borne by the swollen waters down their 
swift tide, till some pitying tendril or over- 
hanging bough caught him and checked his 
downward course. Henry had no choice 
but to retrace his steps and take the longer 
way home by the high road, and he arrived at 
the Prinzenhof pale and agitated, and told 
the sad tale, though he did not know who the 
unfortunate man was, or whether he had 
been a suicide or the victim of an accident. 

The next morning it was known through 


242 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE, 


all Hohenau that the young manufacturer 
had disappeared, but no one knew where he 
had gone or the cause of his absence. All 
now was clear to Henry : the unhappy man 
had perished in the pit he had prepared for 
another, and his intended victim offered up a 
heart-felt prayer for the rest of the soul that 
had been so wilfully bent upon its own de- 
struction. 

Mr. von Breyer was crushed and stunned 
by this new development in his sorrowful 
destiny and the uncertainty of his son’s 
fate, for he was yet ignorant of its awful 
certainty, was hard to bear. He was alone 
in his own apartments, wandering from room 
to room in a state of mind foreign, indeed, 
to one who all his life had held his course so 
remorselessly, and over-ridden with tyranni- 
cal power so triumphantly every circum- 
stance that had arisen to thwart him in the 
attainment of any object which he had 
determined to make his own. He had 
become old in the past few months; he 
sought in vain for contentment in the world, 
and he realized now how futile his efforts 
had been, how empty the rewards. 

He had no faith in God, how could he 
have it in himself ? His business, too, was in 


THE FALL OF THE HOUSE. 


243 


a most alarming condition. He owed large 
sums of money, but unhappily the capital 
was not at his command wherewith to repay 
the loans. A rich banking-house in the 
neighboring city had promised an extensive 
loan, and Mr. von Breyer hoped by its aid to 
rearrange his business affairs and to start 
afresh. 

With a mighty effort he resolved to shake 
off the shadows of his fears and to fight the 
dark presentiments which hung so closely 
about him that his arms seemed pinioned as 
well as his reason clouded. He went to his 
counting-room, where he calculated and 
worked over the long columns of figures, 
once more the stern man of business; and 
in the midst of his busy occupation the door 
was flung open and a messenger thrust a 
despatch into his hand, which the master tore 
eagerly from its envelope. One quick glance 
comprehended it all : “ House of Lieben & 
Co. bankrupt, president absconded with all 
the funds.” The manufacturer’s eyes 
seemed to start from their sockets, his face 
grew ghastly, the lines around his mouth 
rigid, and the paper fell from his nerveless 
hand and fluttered to the floor. All was 
over with him, his house was ruined, his 


244 the angel of the village. 


name tarnished and stricken forever from tho 
roll of honorable business men ; for his house 
must fall with the house of Lieben, and he 
would not, could not, survive the disgrace. 

The wretched man raised himself, pale and 
stricken, from the chair into which he had 
sunk and staggered towards his private desk. 
He took from a secret drawer a small pistol 
and the ammunition for it, proceeded to load 
it with slow and careful precision. He 
examined the trigger, looked at the exquisite 
work on the little weapon, unconsciously 
perhaps, then, still holding it in his hand, 
paced once more up and down the room. 
The man had not the courage to live, how 
could he have the courage to die ? Still it 
must be. Once more his finger is upon the 
trigger, heavy footsteps are heard on the 
stairs without, quickly the weapon is 
raised to his head, one flash, and the house of 
Breyer is masterless. 

The smoke had scarce lifted from the 
prostrate form when the door was again 
thrown open and two men bore over the 
threshold, upon a bier rudely formed of pine 
boughs, a second lifeless body; which the 
storm-beaten waves had cast upon the banks. 
Father and son, both dead by the hand of 


THE FALL OF THE HOUSE. 


245 


Tiolence, lay side by side, the one with blood 
streaming from the fatal wound in his head, 
the other with dark, discolored face and 
water-soaked clothing that left no explana- 
tion necessary to tell the cause of his death. 
Each was, happily, ignorant of the other’’s 
fate. 


CHAPTER XV. 


A NEW MASTER. 


OLDEN, clear, and bright the sun 



vj shone once more over Hohenau; a 
steel-blue heaven spread its bright canopy- 
over mountain and valley; the flowers 
glowed in gayest bloom, and softly their fra- 
grant cups were rocked by the sweet spring 
breeze; gay butterflies fluttered over them, 
proud of their new-found wings, and the 
birds twittered and fluttered in the fruit- 
trees which framed them in their clouds of 
snowy blossom, — for it is the blissful 
month of May. It was not nature alone that 
rejoiced, but all the villagers, who hastened 
from their homes in gay groups, with faces 
beaming with the joyful content that filled 
their hearts, to the factory, where the huge 
chimneys forgot to pour forth the great 
clouds of smoke which usually darkened the 
clear sky, and cast their deep shadows over 
the land. It was not the tall poplars, whose 


A NEW MAS TEE. 


24T 


lofty crowns tinged with spring’s tenderest 
green swayed slowly to and fro before the 
principal entrance, nor the odorous breath of 
the blossoms borne by the soft zephyrs from 
the neighboring orchards that worked the 
charm. The old buildings are so festooned 
and garlanded, that the decorations which 
celebrated the unhappy von Breyer’s festival 
fade to nothingness. Those were wrought 
at the tyrant’s dictate, these by the gentle 
inspiration of love. Great fragrant wreaths, 
interwoven with flowers that seemed to 
gladly close their sweet eyes in death, that 
in dying they might yield up their fragrance 
for love of the dear old master who had 
come back to them, hung in all the windows, 
banners fluttered and waved over the 
entrance gates, forming themselves ever 
anew into fresh triumphant arches. In the 
court-yard, although it was yet early 
morning, the greatest activity prevailed. 
The people were dressed in their Sunday 
best, the Hohenau band stood ready in line 
for the Avord of command which would call 
forth its sweetest strains, white-robed 
maidens, each bearing baskets overflowing 
with sweetest flowers and greenest wreaths, 
— all stood impatiently waiting for Mr. 


248 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


Frederick, the good, the beloved Mr. 
Frederick, the father of his people, who was 
once more master at the factory. 

He had promptly appeared when the old 
place was offered for sale, and cheerfully 
out-bid the highest bidder, for he had long 
regretted his departure from kindly old 
Hohenau, where, though his greatest griefs 
had been endured, the happiest days of his 
life had been passed, and where he was hon- 
ored and beloved by the people. The air of 
the city oppressed him, he longed for the free- 
dom and purity of his mountain home, where 
the cradle of his infancy stood, and where 
he could peacefully close his tired eyes at 
last. 

To-day he returned to this beloved home, 
and assumed once more his gentle rule over 
the men who waited so eagerly to take up 
their old allegiance to him, and old and 
young hastened to make his reception a true 
gala-day. Once more he trod the old famil- 
iar path past the familiar land-marks, and 
when he reached the great gate-way, gay 
with its fluttering flags and spanned by its 
triumphal arch, he halted in surprise. Then 
the huzzas of the men greeted him, and the 
maidens strewed flowers in his pathway, and 


A NEW MAS TEE. 


249 


John Kleemann marched at the head of the 
columns of workmen which defiled before 
him. He greeted them all with a few simple 
words, more his overflowing emotion forbade, 
but Kleemann, as spokesman for the men, 
welcomed him home and sought to express 
the depths of their joy in so doing. 

The good man was almost overcome by 
this unexpected demonstration, and leaning 
upon the arm of his nephew, replied in 
trembling tones : — 

“ Thanks, dear friends ; I see you love me 
yet. I hail you gladly again as dear friends 
and children; and to-day you are my 
guests.” 

Again wild huzzas rang out on the sweet 
morning air, and men, women and children 
pressed close to kiss the hand of the dear old 
man. In a short time long tables were 
spread in the great court-yard, under the tall 
poplars, who, curious and astonished, rustled 
their tall branches over the unwonted scene 
of festivity and mirth. Here and there, up 
and down through the gay crowd the happy 
old man wandered with many a jest and 
kindly greeting for each and all. 

But the longest, brightest day must have 
its end, and at last the daylight darkened 


250 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


into night, the pale moon swept in the 
majesty of her splendor over the dark blue 
sky, one after the other the stars peeped out, 
and the night rivalled the day in its beauty. 
Strains of music rose from the court-yard, 
where gay dancers whirled in giddy circles. 

Contentment and peace reigned now in 
the community whence they had been so 
long banished. Every morning the honored 
master passed through the long halls of the 
factory, listening to every prayer made to his 
attentive ears, and to which his sympathetic 
heart never failed to respond. 

But another blow was yet to fall upon the 
people of Hohenau. The summer had 
scarcely waned when one afternoon the bell 
tolled in the little church-tower on the hill- 
side, telling all who listened that some one 
had parted from his earthly tenement and 
had gone home. All Hohenau knew for 
whom that knell was tolled. In the halls of 
the factory all was still, but around the gates 
the men stood in mournful groups, their 
hearts bowed with grief and tears falling 
from their sorrowful eyes. 

In the room above, behind the drawn cur- 
tains, lay the master, pale and still, but the 
same smile which never failed to greet his 


A NEW MAS TEE. 


251 


friends resting upon his lips, which were 
silenced forever ; quietly he had fallen 
asleep, and “ his end was peace.” 

All Hohenau followed him to his last 
resting place, a mournful procession, for each 
mourned the loss of a friend and would not 
he comforted. Whilst almost no one had 
followed the coffin of the unfortunate 
Erasmus Breyer, who, as a suicide had been 
consigned to the earth in perfect silence, no 
tolling hell or funeral hymn celebrating the 
mournful time, here all crowded around 
the open grave, and each one let a handful 
of earth fall softly from their loving hands 
upon the coffin of their loved, revered friend. 
And when after the “ Our Father,” the ven- 
erable pastor prayed in almost inarticulate 
tones that he might ‘‘ rest in peace,” each 
head was uncovered, and the “ amen ” was 
a stifled sob. 

But the death of the good man was not 
the signal for an upheaval in the arrange- 
ments so lately completed at the factory, as 
many feared it would be. According to his 
last will and testament the factory became 
the property of his nephew, who assumed his 
position as master, with kindness and 
courtesy to all, assuring every one that it 


252 THE ANGEL OF THE VILLAGE. 


would be bis object to follow closely in the 
footsteps of his uncle, and to make good, as 
far as it lay in his power, the irreparable loss 
they had met in his death. 

And he kept his word. Soon the people 
learned to turn to him as they had to his 
predecessor, and when, after a short time, he 
brought home a young wife to the gray old 
home, she was given snch a welcome that 
caused the old poplars again to look down in 
astonishment at the waves of laughter and 
joy that broke against their ancestral trunks. 
The young wife was a true mother to the 
people, a second Angel of the Village. 

And our own dear Village Angel, — 
where has she been whilst all these varied 
scenes have been enacted? Truly, we must 
not forget her who is now also a young and 
happy wife. The will of Mr. Frederick had 
ordered that the Prinzenhof should belong to 
Marie, the beloved godchild of his dear 
wife. But when she was again rich, the 
heiress of the beautiful home once more, she 
did not forget the faithful heart that had 
been so leal and true to her in the days of 
sorrow and uncertainty, and long ere this 
had given her hand to Henry. Old Ulrich 
now dandled a little grandson upon his knee. 


A NEW MASTER. 


253 


or carried him proudly in his arms to the 
lake-side, where the two spent happy hours 
upon the mossy old bench beneath the 
alders, till the fond mother, growing anxious 
for her treasure in the heat of mid-day or 
gathering shadows of evening, would seek 
them out and marshal them both home to the 
protecting roof-tree. 

John Kleemann, who has been appointed 
superintendent at the factory, is often at the 
Prinzenhof, as is dear “ Mother Anna,” and 
both rejoice in the prosperity of their son. 

In the church-yard, over a grave a little 
apart from the rest, rises a handsome shaft of 
dark grey marble, upon which we read in gilt 
letters : — 

HERE SLEEPS IN PEACE 
FRANZ FREDERICK 

THE FATHER OF THE POOR OF HOHENAU. 

MAY THE EARTH REST LIGHTLY UPON HIM. 

Fresh wreaths are always upon the monu- 
ment, and from the grave grow flowers, 
white and blue, as pure and tender as if they 
had sprung from the noble heart that sleeps 
beneath, buds whose seeds are sown by God, 
to come to fullest fruition on the day when 
He maketh up His sheaves. 



CUPPLES & HURD, 

PUBLISHERS AND BOOKSELLERS. 

9 ^ Boylston Street, Boston. 


ANNOUNCEMENTS, 

AUTUMN, 1887. 


THE WORLD AS WE SAW IT. By Mrs. Amos 
R. Little. Superbly illustrated with 100 photo- 
types and cuts, tail-pieces, initial letters, etc. 4to, 
cloth, gilt top, $7.50. 

Light and entertaining, yet giving much information 
and Rill of vivid sketches of far-away people. 

YESTERDAYS WITH ACTORS. By Kate 
Reignolds Winslow. Illustrated with photo- 
types and vignettes. 8vo, colored top, uncut, 
$2.00; white and gold, gilt top, $2.50. 

Bright and chatty reminiscences of famous Actors 
and Actresses, gleaming with life and action, sparkling 
with humor and drollery. 

THE MONK’S WEDDING. A novel. By C. F. 
Meyer. Translated by Sarah H. Adams. Cr. 
8vo, unique binding, gilt top, $1.25. 

It possesses realistic loyalty to facts, idealistic inter- 
est, and literary form and finish. 

MATTHEW GALBRAITH PERRY. A Typical 
American Naval Officer. By William Elliot 
Griffis, D. D. Cr. 8vo, gilt top, $2.00. 

The only biography of the hero of Japan. 


2 


Fall AjinojiiicementSy j88y. 


LETTERS FROM COLORADO. By H. L. 

Wason. i6mo, $1.25. 

A clever bit of versification, full of poetic touches, 
telling of the free life of Colorado and giving many of 
its charming old legends. 

NATURE IN SCRIPTURE. A study of Bible 
Verification in the Range of Common Experience. 
By Rev. E. C. Cummings. Second Edition. Cr. 
8vo, $1.75. 

A remarkable book and a book for “thinkers.’* 
Worthy to be placed beside Mulford’s “ Republic of 
God.” 

OLD NEW ENGLAND DAYS. A Story of True 
Life. By Sophie M. Damon. i6mo, $1.25. 

Depicting some of the womanly women of a by-gone 
generation as exemplified in the estimable Mrs. All- 
woode and her seven daughters, who maj be taken as 
types of the loveliest and best of their time . — Literary 
World. 

BLEDISLOE; OR AUNT PEN’S AMERICAN 
NIECES. An International Story. By Ada M. 
Trotter. Cr. 8vo, cloth $1.50. 

Her characters are true to life and she has admirably 
shown the most noticeable peculiarity of the two girls. 

. . . ability to interest the reader, — a flavor of good, 
strong and wholesome sentiment. — Bosto7i Herald. 

ZORAH; A LOVE STORY OF MODERN 
EGYPT. By Elizabeth Balch. Cr. 8vo, cloth, 
$1.25 ; paper, with novel and beautiful cover, .50. 

The strongest part of the story is in the types of char- 
acter which it contains. ... an excellent study of the 
social atmosphere in and around Egypt. 

GRITLI’S CHILDREN. Translated by Mrs. 
Louise Brooks from the German of Mme. Spyri, 
author of “ Heidi,” “ Rico and Wiseli,” and 
“Veronica.” i6mo, 2 vols. in one, $1.50. 

A new volume, making the fourth of this set. 


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